


Love and the Ocean's Breeze

by Kuzuriolu



Series: Ocean's Breeze [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Family Fluff, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Girls in Love, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, Kid Fic, Lesbians!, Lots of Squid, Magical Pregnancy, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Varying Genres
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2020-10-21 01:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 54,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20685320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuzuriolu/pseuds/Kuzuriolu
Summary: After the war comes to an end, Dorothea and Petra return back to Petra's home in Brigid to spend the rest of their life with one another. A tale of Dorothea and Petra's life in Brigid, both the peaceful times and the troubles that come with it. Post Crimson Flower, light spoilers.





	1. The Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> For this work, all words spoken in Brigaeli will be written in Italics. I don't have the capabilities of coming up with a made up language :(.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is just sort of an introduction and is half a vent fanfic.

The bright light of the scorching Brigid sun shimmered through glass windows, beaming directly down on Dorothea’s sleeping eyes. She grumbled a bit to herself as she tossed towards the side, cursing how the sun always seemed to know exactly where to shine to wake her up in the most uncomfortable way possible. She begged for but a moment longer of sleep, but it seemed that nature had other plans for her. Reluctantly, the young woman opened her eyes, having to rub the all too intense light out of them. Her heart nearly skipped a beat when the sudden realization that she was far from alone dawned upon her. Upon her grand bed next to her was her beautiful Petra, still fast asleep with fuschia locks freed from their usual ponytail spread upon their carefully crafted fur blankets. They had spent the night together, of course, as they always did, now that the two were freed from the flames of war, but sometimes Dorothea would forget for but a moment. A soft smile graced her tired features as a hand reached out to gently run through the loose strands of hair, a content sigh brushing past her lips. Even in her sleep, Petra resembled a being from the heavens above. 

“Good morning, my love,” whispered Dorothea into the sleepy girl’s ear. Her arms wrapped themselves around her back and pulled her to her body, clad in only a loose red gown. “My beloved, my darling, my sweetest, my queen,” she listed off, allowing any pet name she could think of to escape from her lips. She had a multitude of affectionate nicknames for her lover, but not one that she favored. 

Petra squirmed lightly, muttering something in Brigidian under her lips. Though Dorothea had been practicing diligently, it was far too quick and quiet for the songstress to translate. Her eyes eventually peered open as well, though she could not see her lover’s face from her position. The soon-to-be queen rolled over in Dorothea’s arms and met her emerald gaze with a soft smile. A hand reached for the soft skin of the former opera singer’s cheek, which she caressed lovingly. The shimmering sun highlighted her deep brown hair and emerald eyes, making her too look like a goddess. “Dorothea,  _ my love, _ ” she spoke softly. “ _ Good morning. _ ”

“ _ Good morning _ ,” Dorothea echoed back, though the Brigaeli words sounded awkward upon her untrained tongue. “ _ The… morning… is making you feel well?” _

Petra laughed at her lover’s attempt at the language, and Dorothea’s cheeks tinted pink. She wondered to herself if this was how the princess felt back in Fódlan, where she was the only non-native speaker. “ _ The morning is always wonderful when you’re in it, _ ” Petra replied back. 

Dorothea’s brain searched for the meaning behind Petra’s words, though early morning confusion meant that she came back with little to nothing. Something about the morning and her? Luckily, Petra caught onto her plight. “I am saying that the morning is always being wonderful when you are in it.”

The songstress grinned sheepishly. “Ah. I have plenty of practice to do, I see,” she half laughed. “I must sound so silly to you.”

“No. I am thinking you sound adorable,” corrected Petra. “And it is filling my heart with happiness that you are learning the language of Brigid.”

Dorothea had been studying Brigaeli for the last two years or so, starting with a casual interest back when they were both employed as members of the Black Eagle Strike Force. Petra had begun by teaching her simple words and phrases whenever they found alone time between the horrors of war. Neither of them had thought any deeper meaning behind the actions, until they had found themselves falling in love with one another. Days spent discussing Brigid traditions and braiding each others hair evolved into nights spent with lips upon lips and arms around each other, and when Petra had invited Dorothea to come back to Brigid with her to stay for good, Dorothea had begun to study more ardently. She hardly wished to be only one unable to speak the native language. In the two years, she had certainly managed to advance, but was a far cry away from mastering it. 

“Anything for you, my beloved,” Dorothea said softly. How she wished she could spend the entire morning simply gazing into the eyes of her wife to be, but alas, the rumbling of her stomach protested outwardly. Breakfast was to be served around this time by the king’s servants, and she was always invited to attend.

“Shall we be going now?” Petra suggested after hearing her lover’s stomach cry out. “We can be spending more time cuddling later.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Dorothea agreed. She begrudgingly tore her arms from Petra’s body and forced herself to sit upwards, and then upon her feet. She wandered to the enormous closet that was occupied in part by Fódlan dresses and in part with traditional Brigid clothing woven from hides and fabrics only found in the archipelago. It was plainly obvious which outfits belonged to which woman. It had only been three moons since Dorothea had arrived upon the isle, and she had yet to engross herself fully in its culture. She wasn’t even sure if such a thing was permitted, given the two of them were not yet married… far from it, in fact.

As Dorothea slipped on a light red dress, a small cloud of anxiety loomed over her. Despite the fact that they had been living together and sharing a room, the two of them had yet to announce their intentions to wed. Petra’s grandfather, the current king, had been told that Dorothea was simply a friend who had come to help forge diplomatic relations with the Empire and renegotiate ties so that one day Brigid may be on equal footing. It wasn’t as though Petra’s grandfather was opposed to her marrying a foreigner, in fact, it was the complete opposite. It had been his intention to marry his granddaughter off to a nobleman of Fódlan, so that the two countries could be bound by marriage instead of hostages. Dorothea was in all ways the opposite of what he had envisioned, and Petra wished to slowly introduce him to the idea of her marrying a simple common woman instead of a man with power. A lump formed in her throat as she wondered just how much that man knew about the truth of their relationship. Surely he had begun to question their closeness, and by now he must have caught onto the fact that she was not using the guest room that had been given to her. The eternal fear of being rejected and torn away from her Petra sat lingering in her stomach, left to fester. Perhaps the more time she spent integrating herself with Brigid culture the more he would begin to warm up to the idea. 

It wasn’t as though he was ever hostile to her, but their talks had been about nothing but business. He had never inquired for much information about her life, though Petra had likely told him everything he needed to know already. Dorothea could hardly gauge what kind of a man he was. He seemed stern and set in his ways, yet was always gentle with his granddaughter. He certainly loved her deeply, something that Dorothea didn’t need mastery of their language to understand. The other members of Petra’s family had taken to her quite well. Though she no longer had parents, she had a handful of cousins that lived in the castle, though none of them spoke a word of Fódlanese. From her brief chats in broken speech with them, they seemed to be quite interested in her and asked her a few questions that Dorothea didn’t know how to answer. Luckily, Petra was always there to quell their curiosity. 

Now completely dressed, Dorothea turned towards her lover, who had thrown on her clothing as well. The woman was adorned in her regular outfit, the same that she had chosen to wear back in their days as members of the Black Eagles Strike Force. Brigid clothing was tailored to compensate for the scorching heat, meaning she could wear her usual attire whenever she pleased. Dorothea, on the other hand, had to switch to much lighter dresses so that she didn’t find herself nearly dying of heat stroke. Petra offered her hand, which Dorothea gladly took. Any anxieties in her stomach melted away upon seeing her lover’s brilliant smile, adoration reflected in her eyes. 

“Let us be going, love,” Petra spoke.

“Let’s.”

Petra’s hand tugged Dorothea out of their shared room and down the hallways of the Brigid Castle. Interior design in Brigid was far different from Adrestia, which often consisted of expensive furniture decorated in gold and jewels. Nobles of Fódlan sure did love to show off their wealth by buying the most frivilant things. Brigid, on the other hand, focused mostly on nature, with most of the heirlooms upon the walls being carefully crafted from wood or stone. Trophies from successful hunts lined every corner of the castle, giving it a much more homey feel than the extravagance of Empire castles. It was far more relaxing for the common woman, who had always looked down upon annoying nobility. 

The grand dining hall was much the same as the rest of the castle. A large table reaching from one end of the room to the other lay center, while a multitude of precious treasures hung from the walls. Breakfast was already set and ready. A few of Petra’s cousins were already there, chatting to each other in words far from Dorothea’s understanding while chowing down. Hunting and fishing were sports highly valued in Brigid culture, and thus, most of their food consisted of meat. Breakfast was almost always grilled fish of a variety that was not found in Fódlan, something that Dorothea had to warm up to. The two girls sat next to each other as Petra set plates for the both of them and piled them with food. 

“ _ Good morning, _ ” greeted one of Petra’s cousins, a young man only a year younger than her. 

“ _ Good morning, _ ” Dorothea echoed with a soft smile. 

A younger girl around the age of four or five turned towards her older cousin and spoke something in Brigaeli that Dorothea couldn’t even hope to understand, so she went back to her meal. She poked at the fish upon her plate with a fork tentatively, not recognizing the species. She had never really been a picky eater, especially given how she had grown up. Back when she was nothing more than a street rat hiding in the alleys of Enbarr, she would eat anything she was given, including mere scraps that had been left to rot in trash cans for days on end. All food was the same once it was eaten, anyway, so she never really bothered to refine her taste buds. Whatever Petra served her, she would eat without question. Nothing could taste as bad as rotten meat from the trash.

She swallowed down her meal alongside glass of fresh water, trying not to pay too much attention to Petra’s gossiping cousins. She was certain that they weren’t saying anything bad, for Petra would surely interject if she did, but it still made her feel uneasy at times. Perhaps she would spend the rest of her day drowning herself in her studies. If she truly was to be married to the queen, learning the language had to become her highest priority. 

“ _ Excuse me, _ ” squeaked out the small cousin. She tapped lightly on the table to get Dorothea’s attention.

Dorothea looked up. “ _ ...Yes?” _ she replied, curious. 

“ _ You are Petra’s special friend, yes?”  _

Dorothea didn’t quite understand what the small one was trying to convey to her, a perplexed expression growing upon her face. 

The little girl seemed to realize that Dorothea was having trouble understanding. “ _ You know… you two are in love! And kissing! Like Mom and Dad, _ ” she continued onwards. “ _ Petra said you were her special friend!” _

Ah. She understood enough of what the girl was saying to get a grasp on what she was asking, earning a faint blush. Before she could answer back, Petra cut in and began to speak swiftly in her native language, mostly things that Dorothea couldn’t understand. The exchange was completely lost on her ears, and she was left guessing. The little girl just giggled to herself when Petra was done talking and went back to her meal, a tiny smile upon her face.

“You have my apologies,” Petra told Dorothea. “Children can have a lot of curiosity…”

“It’s fine, Petra,” Dorothea insisted. “Were you talking about be before to them? What sort of things were you saying, I wonder… I certainly hope it was good.”

The flustered princess nodded. “Yes! I was saying how much you are meaning to me and how you are always treating everyone with kindness. I said that you are precious to me.”

“You’re too sweet, Petra,” mused Dorothea. “I can see why she picked up on that. What did you just tell her?”

“I was telling her she should be keeping what she heard a secret from Grandfather, that is all.”

One again, the uneasiness boiled a bit in the pit of her stomach. “Ah. I see,” she answered flatly. Suddenly, the mostly finished meal in front of her didn’t look appealing anymore. She hated to leave food left behind on the plate, so she forced herself to shove the rest of it down her throat without thinking much about the flavor. How long would this uncertainty go on for? 

As if he had heard what was being said about him, the king himself appeared in the doorway of the dining hall, dressed in traditional Brigid furs not much different from Petra’s own. Even though it was a hot day, he had not chosen to wear light clothing, instead covering himself with rare hides of which he had made himself. He was a tall man with deep gray hair whose expression was ever stern, making it hard to discern what he was thinking at most times. His overpowering presence sent a chill down Dorothea’s spine. Though he was still a strong man, his age was definitely showing, given how he hobbled slightly whenever he walked. He sat himself down across his granddaughter and her lover, nodding in greeting.

“ _ Good morning, Petra, _ ” he greeted his granddaughter. “Good morning, Dorothea.”

“Good morning,” Dorothea answered back, trying not to let her anxieties show on her face. Her posture was stiff and rigid, and she had to wonder if the man caught sight of how uneasy she acted whenever he was in the room.

“ _ Good morning! _ ” Petra greeted with vigor, allowing a large grin to overtake her face. A hand slipped underneath the table to grasp at Dorothea’s, sensing her lover’s fear.  _ “It’s good to see you again, Grandfather. I hope everything has been well!” _

“ _ Yes, of course _ ,” the king answered back, and that was the extent of what Dorothea understood of their conversation. She shifted about awkwardly as the two members of the Brigid royal family rapidly discussed well,  _ something _ , her hand squeezing onto Petra’s. Her heart raced like a horse upon the battlefield as anxieties crept up upon her. Judging by Petra’s expression, their conversation seemed casual and light, though she couldn’t shake awful thoughts from her head. It was times like this when she would suddenly become overwhelmed with her position, and how far life had come. Fifteen years ago, she was a tiny orphan dying of starvation upon the streets of Enbarr, scorned by the nobles who would look at her as nothing more than trash that had yet to be taken out. Now, she was set to be married to a literal princess of a completely different country, surrounded by people speaking a language she hardly knew and eating food she didn’t even know existed three moons ago. What would happen if the king were to reject her? Would she plunge back into that horrible life? Just thinking about such a scenario was making her feel sick to her stomach. Her hand trembled in Petra’s grasp.

“ _ I have to be going, _ ” Petra told him abruptly, releasing Dorothea’s hand and standing to her feet. She realized that her poor lover was growing more and more anxious, and that further conversation with her grandfather was just stirring it on further. Relief washed over Dorothea like a tidal wave, and she silently thanked Petra for being so in tune with her emotions. “ _ I will see you soon.  _ Dorothea, come now. We are having plans to discuss... about the Empire.”

“Yes! Oh, I had just received a letter from Edie,” she lied. Anything to get her out of the room, which felt as though it was getting stuffier and stuffier. “I need help coming up with a reply.”

“Very well. Good luck,” the king told them both in Fódlanese. He was an adept speaker of the language, though he obviously preferred to use his native tongue around his granddaughter. 

With their goodbyes said, Petra trotted on out of the room, Dorothea following close behind her. Anxiety was fluttering about in her stomach, and she felt as though she was about to fall over from all the stress that had suddenly appeared upon her shoulders. Even having that man in the same room as her was enough to induce a panic attack at this point. Whenever she was to meet the gaze of that stern king, all she could imagine was his angry voice telling her she was not welcome in his land and that he had to return home to the Empire, for she had tainted his granddaughter. Petra’s hand once again sought Dorothea’s and she gave her a firm tug forward, leading her back down the hall to their secretly shared room. 

Once they were once again alone, Dorothea collapsed face first upon the bed and buried her nose upon soft furs, her whole body shaking. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to breathe in and out slowly. Petra’s concerned voice echoed out from behind her, but the words did not reach her ears as she tried to do everything in her power to drown out her panic-driven thoughts. She couldn’t stop the train of thoughts from coming like a wild thunderstorm raining upon the land. One man had the power to completely  _ destroy _ everything that she had come to know and love, and held her within the palm of her hands. If he simply decided she was not suitable to be a queen alongside his granddaughter, or if he even thought it would preferable for her to have a husband instead of a wife. 

A hand slithered around her back and suddenly pulled her entire body close. When had Petra gotten onto the bed next to her? She hadn’t even noticed. “Shh… it will be alright,” whispered Petra’s soothing voice as she rubbed her hand in circles on her lover’s exposed back. “I am here, Dorothea. No one will be hurting you when I am here. I will be fighting away all the bad thoughts!” Her lips pressed themselves upon Dorothea’s cheek in a faint, gentle kiss that barely even tickled her skin. It was enough, however, to send a shudder down Dorothea’s spine and temporarily distract her. She shivered and shook her head, burying her face into Petra’s chest.

“Oh, Petra, I am absolutely hopeless. I must seem so weak. I shouldn’t be panicking like that. Your grandfather… I’m sure he’s a wonderful man, but I… I just can’t stop thinking about… what if this all doesn’t work out, and—”

“—It will be working out,” Petra replied confidently. “I will not be letting anyone get in our way. When I am to be queen, I will be marrying you, even if my grandfather is not allowing it. I am not wanting anyone else.” The worries of which Dorothea bore were not ones that Petra had heard before. Everyday, the uncertainty of their future plagued them, haunting them. “I am having worry as well, but… We will be making wonderful queens. I have certainty.”

Dorothea took a moment to breathe in before pulling away from her lover’s chest. She looked deeply into Petra’s warm eyes, allowing the mere sight of the one she loved more than anyone else to wash away doubt. “But… I’m just… Petra, you said your grandfather wanted you to have a husband. I’m not… well. I’m just some street girl. Even I can’t help you as well as someone with ties to Imperial nobility can.”

“I am not wanting that,” Petra answered right away. “I am only wanting Dorothea. I… I  _ refuse _ to take anyone else.” She bit her lip, surely thinking of a darker future where she was forced to marry a man she did not love. “I am thinking… that this uncertainty has gone on for too long. I must be speaking with my grandfather soon.”

“Petra,” breathed Dorothea. The plan had been to ease him into the idea, but clearly, that was causing them far more distress then need be. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s only been three moons since the two of us have met.”

“It must be done,” replied a determined Petra. “I… I cannot stand seeing you like this, Dorothea. It is making my heart break.”

Ah. Indeed, sorrow was reflected in those light brown eyes, her lips quirked into a worried frown. A broken laugh escaped Dorothea’s lips as she shook her head, hating herself for making her poor lover worry. “Don’t worry, my beloved. I’ll be all right soon. I just… got a bit too worked up,” she reassured the other woman with a forced smile. Her hand reached to stroke Petra’s cheek, her other arm slinging itself over her waist and pulling her into a tight embrace. She allowed the sound of her partner’s steady heartbeat to lull her back into a calm state of mind, as it always did whenever she began to panic. Ever since the war had started, she had gotten more and more of these attacks, but she had hoped they would cease after the fighting had ended. As it turned out, her body was far from done with pulling out such states of worry, and whenever it did, Petra was always there for her, kind and understanding. 

“Thank you, Petra. You’re the best. You put up with so much,” sighed Dorothea, burying her nose into the crook of her lover’s neck. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble.”

“You are not causing trouble,” Petra insisted. “I am only wishing to be supporting you whenever this happens. I will be doing everything in my power so that it will not happen again. Soon, let us talk to my grandfather. I will make him have understanding.”

At her determined tone, Dorothea couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. Whenever Petra got serious about something, whether it be fishing or work, it was always so adorable. “All right,” she agreed. Even if talking to him went over badly, at least it would set aside the horrible feeling of just not knowing. With an answer, at least she could feel a bit more secure, no matter what it was. “I’ll tell him all about how much I love you, and exactly  _ what _ I love about you. Like how adorable you get whenever you catch a big fish, how you always are so gentle with my hair whenever you braid it, and how you love to sing when its raining…” 

To that, Petra squeaked a bit. “T...That is embarrassing, Dorothea. Please do not…” 

“All right, all right,” laughed Dorothea, cuddling the other girl closer. They still had some time in the morning before they had to be productive, and she fully intended on using it to do nothing but snuggle with her lover. “I’ll try not to. But you’re so cute, it’s hard not to gush about you to everyone I meet. When we’re married, I won’t be able to help myself…”

The flustered princess fidgeted a bit in their embrace. “I will be looking forward to it, but please try not to be embarrassing me too much!” 

“Of course not, my beloved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like i said, the second half of this is mostly me venting and taking out my own Troubles with sexuality and stuff by writing it out in fictional characters because damn i wish they addressed this stuff in three houses!!! but i gotta do it my damn self!!! 
> 
> most of this fanfic wont be angsty, but i dont really think i could write a series of married doropetra stuff without addressing the possible hurdles in their relationship first. 
> 
> when will i update this? whenever i feel like it. please leave a comment and kudo if you liked or if you have ideas you wanna see for their married life. thanks, i appreciate it.


	2. Brigid Blood

As Petra stood outside the door of her grandfather’s quarters, her heart began to thump rapidly like a heavy drum. A fist hovered above the grand door, carved with creatures from Brigid legend. Dorothea had retired to their room for the night, and soon, her grandfather too would be fast asleep underneath the clear Brigid night skies. Though the conversation weighed heavily upon Petra and Dorothea’s future, they had mutually agreed that only Petra was to partake in the discussion, for the songstress would surely panic upon setting foot in the king’s room. Besides, it wasn’t as though she would be capable of understanding a majority of their conversation, a fact that would surely bring about nothing but further anxiety for the already panic-stricken girl. The task fell solely on Petra’s shoulders. Her grandfather had become her closest family following the death of her beloved father, and had always shown nothing but love for Petra. There was little that could be done to tear away his love for his granddaughter, but even so… The girl still hesitated. 

The lump in her throat grew heavier, like a ball of steel wrenched within her airway, choking her. Her head felt as light as a feather. How she wished it were possible to avoid the conversation altogether, but doing so was clearly causing Dorothea only distress. Despite how confidently she had spoken to her love prior, she heralded only worry. To lose Dorothea would shatter her heart into billions of pieces, never to be glued back together. By now, she had become deeply devoted to the woman in absolutely every way, and she could not stand the thought of wedding any other, certainly not a man. She felt sick at the mere idea.

Not allowing herself further thought, the princess rasped her knuckles against the door. She took a sole step backwards and attempted to swallow the lump stuck within her throat to no avail. Within mere moments, the man himself opened up the door, glancing down at his granddaughter with a thin smile.

“ _ Petra, my dear. You may come in, if you wish to do so,” _ the king greeted, holding the door open.

Petra nimbly stepped within her grandfather’s quarters, eyes darting back and forth. Her grandfather was certainly one for keeping things tidy, as the bedroom had not a scrap upon the floor aside from the hide carpeting made from a rare deer found only in the northernmost isle in the spring. Though he had long ago retired from the sport, the king had once been a grand hunter, and he was not modest when it came to decorating his room with some of his best hunts. The heads of beasts were mounted upon the walls, stuffed and cleaned with such expertise that they looked as though they could come alive at any moment. In the center of the room sat an enormous bed covered from head to toe in only the finest of furs, including that of the silver wolf, a creature said to be the softest and most beautiful in all of Brigid. Certainly, Petra had heard tales from her father about the king’s glory days of hunting, but they had long vanished before she was born. 

“ _ You may take a seat, Petra. You needn’t just stand there,”  _ her grandfather remarked. He had already taken his own seat near a low table that housed several traditional Brigid tea cups, upon a chair made of the finest woods in Brigid. 

Petra realized that she had simply been gawking and nodded firmly. She joined her grandfather opposite him. Perhaps if she were simply here for needless chatter, she would find herself melting into the comfort of the expertly made chair. But now, as she looked into her grandfather’s brown eyes, she felt nothing but a chill.

“ _ Something is bothering you, _ ” he observed immediately. It was not a question, he had already known this to be true. “ _ You are unusually quiet. _ ”

The future queen fidgeted about in her chair. “ _ Sorry, Grandfather. I just don’t know how to begin talking about what I want to talk about with you _ ,” she admitted. There was just so much she had to say, and no way to put it lightly. 

“ _ I already feel as though I know what you want to tell me _ ,” the king stated simply. His wrinkled hands folded together upon his lap, clothed by tanned hide pants. 

Petra’s head jolted upwards. “ _ You do? _ ” she asked, eyes going slightly wide with panic. “ _ Then… _ ”

“ _ I will not say a word until you do. Go on, Petra, _ ” urged the old man.

It seemed as though he was not willing to make things easy on the princess. Petra’s finger lightly grazed the bottom of her chin as she mulled over the several different ways she could open the conversation. She could ease him into the idea, or she could simply start off with a bold declaration of love for Dorothea. Perhaps, if it were one of the operas that Dorothea had so often told Petra about, she would settle for the second option. But this was not an opera, and dealt with things very real and very vital to her future. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin her conversation with theatrics. 

“ _ I wanted to discuss with you… the future of Brigid, and what will be done when I am queen _ ,” she started off, believing it to be a good introduction. She looked to her grandfather for a response, but found that he was simply waiting for her to continue onwards rather than helping her steer the conversation forward. “ _ ...I… I was thinking about everything you told me before you sent me to live in Fódlan. How you wanted a peaceful future for Brigid and Fódlan, so that we could be allies on equal footing rather than just a vassal state. I’ve already expressed much of this sentiment towards Lady Edelgard, who has agreed to cooperate. Dorothea and I have been in talks with her in regards to it, but… well, it is going slowly. But… I was thinking about another thing. How you told me that it would make you happy if Fódlan and Brigid were to be bound by the ties of marriage. You told me that you wanted me to find a nobleman to marry and bring back to rule alongside me. _ ” As the subject approached the topic of marriage, she began to get visibly more nervous. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead like a gentle river, rolling off her chin and onto her skirt. One finger nervously wrapped around a loose strand of hair that fell from her shoulders, winding it so tightly that her fingertip nearly went white. 

When she sought out a reaction from her grandfather, she found only an ever stern expression showing no signs of emotions. “ _ And? You did not. You returned to Brigid with a friend of yours to negotiate ties _ ,” he pointed out. He seemed to be pressing her onwards, wishing for draw closer to her point.

“ _ That… that is what I told you, yes, _ ” nervously replied Petra, feeling as though she was close to choking on her words. “ _ Dorothea is… a common woman. An experienced general and a warrior in the Imperial Army, but one without power or wealth. She has a few ties back in Fódlan that’s been of great help, but…”  _ Ah, where was she even going with this sentence? Her legs were beginning to tremble. She had always known that she was not an expert at the language of Fódlan, but her very own language was giving her trouble now. “ _ I… I’m trying to say that… I brought her back because… she’s precious to me, and I couldn’t live without her. I can’t stand the thought of living a life not at her side. I’m in love with her. _ ”

A loud sigh escaped her grandfathers lips. Petra nervously glanced in his eyes, desperate for signs of an emotion, but found only emptiness. The King of Brigid reached for one of the teacups upon the table, sculpted with blue sea glass. He took a long sip of its contents before placing it back upon the table. The silence was nearly crushing the princess, who by now was a mess of sweat. Though she usually felt nothing but love for the man in front of her, now, she was fearing him. The king cleared his throat and locked his gaze back upon his granddaughter, staring into her eyes with a chilling look. “ _ I know this _ ,” he told her. Before Petra could splutter out a response, the man continued. “ _ I am no fool, Petra. I was a man in love long ago. I am not blind to the looks you give each other, nor am I blind to the fact that she has not once used the guest room I had granted her. I have noticed how the two of you always come to breakfast side by side, and I have even caught sight of your woman entering your room in the dead of the night. It was obvious from the moment you brought her back that you did so because you were in love with her. Otherwise, I fail to see why you would bring a common woman to help negotiate ties to the Empire instead of someone far more experienced. _ ”

“ _ Then—” _

“ _ —I am not yet done, Petra, _ ” the king interrupted her. He rose unsteadily to his feet, grunting a bit as he did so. Old age had taken its toll upon his bones, and it would not be long before they gave out entirely. He turned his back to his granddaughter as his vision instead laid upon a painting hung proudly above his bed, depicting a man with bright fuschia hair upon his knees, hands pressed together in prayer before the spirits of Brigid. “ _ You already know the tale of our family well. Long ago, when Brigid came to be, the Macnearys were blessed by the spirits. We were chosen to lead our people, and given power unlike any other. Our blood contains the blessing of these spirits. When a Macneary is born, they too are bound to our spirits by our bloodline. You and I are no exception. While we do not have the so-called Crests that the people of Fódlan care so much about, the blood of our noble family is still sacred. It carries within it our right to lead. That is why no one other than a child of a Macneary may sit upon the throne of Fódlan. _ ” He flickered his gaze back towards his granddaughter, glancing over his shoulder. “ _ I’m sure you know why I’m reminding you of this. _ ”

“ _ Yes, _ ” answered Petra immediately. It was exactly as she thought, yet, her heart was still sinking. 

“ _ I and the spirits of Brigid will accept no heir other than one of your own flesh and blood. If you want my answer, Petra, then it is simply this: I don’t know. _ ” He turned fully back around to stare his granddaughter in the eye, his own glazed over with ice. “ _ Unless you are capable of producing an heir of your own flesh and blood, I cannot accept your marriage. That is that. _ ”

“ _ Yes… of course, Grandfather _ ,” answered back the disheartened Petra, already feeling as though her heart was cracking. She rose to her feet, wanting nothing more than to dash and hide underneath her covers. But she was a warrior, and a warrior faced their issues head on with pride. To run from this would only further worsen the despair she felt. She forced herself to stand tall and face her grandfather with dignity. She would not cry, for this was exactly the answer that she was expecting. 

“ _ Either you will find a way to make miracles happen, or you will find a husband who can provide you with a legitimate heir. Is that understood? _ ” 

“ _ Yes, Grandfather, _ ” Petra repeated, not allowing her sorrow to surface in her voice. She remained stern, unwavering. “ _ If… if that is all, then… I will go back to bed. _ ”

“ _ That is all. You are dismissed. _ ”

With another firm nod, Petra walked to the door upon shaky feet. She tried not to look too hasty as she pried it open and closed it firmly behind her. An uneasy breath escaped the pits of her lungs as she pressed her back to the cold wood, eyes wandering to the patterned ceiling. No tears were to be shed tonight, she told herself. 

* * *

“So, your grandfather wants you to have a child.”

Petra nodded solemnly as she sat opposite Dorothea upon their shared bed, barely even thinking of the warm fur sheets underneath them. “Yes. In Brigid, the royal family is said to be having sacred blood that was blessed by the spirits. That blood is… being necessary for leadership. I am having this blood, and so is my grandfather. It is only possible to be passing this down through parent and child. That is why my grandfather is wishing for me to be having a husband.”

Dorothea pondered the implications, sitting cross-legged upon her sheets. Despite the less than favorable circumstances, she did not appear to be wavered by the revelation, instead looking as though she was deep in thought. Her finger tapped her chin repeatedly in a rapid rhythm, her mind elsewhere as she dove deep in thought. “I suppose it’s not all that different from the whole Crests issue. The nobles of Fódlan want children with Crests to carry on their bloodline, just… in this case, it’s more spiritual than physical.” She sighed deeply and shook her head, muttering to herself about how complicated nobles made things out to be. “Well, no matter what your grandfather wants, Petra, I refuse to leave your side, so… I guess we have to start thinking.”

“Thinking? Of what?” Petra questioned, glancing up from her feet to meet her lover’s emerald eyes.

“Of how to have a child, of course!” Dorothea stated as though it was obvious, eyes blinking. “There are plenty of different ways to solve the issue, right? 

Befuddlement washed over Petra’s face as she furrowed her brows together. When her grandfather had requested a child of hers, she had simply thought it the end of a future between her and Dorothea, but the songstress appeared absolutely unwilling to let such an issue get in between them. It was not as though the princess wished to give up so easily, it was simply that she had not thought there any alternatives. “Is there really being a way?”

“Of course! There’s plenty of ways, Petra. I mean, as long as it's your child, we can raise it like its mine as well. We’d just need someone for you to, well, have the child with,” Dorothea pointed out. 

Immediately, the corners of Petra’s mouth curved downward. Though it was a fair suggestion, her stomach boiled with apprehension at the thought. Having to lay with anyone for the sole purpose of bearing a child made her heart pound with anxiety, and forced bile to rise to her throat. “I... I am not having comfort with that idea,” she admitted. Perhaps, she thought, it was selfish of her to shoot down the concept so quickly, but entertaining the idea any further was making her head feel a bit dizzy. She had only become comfortable with intimacy with Dorothea after a long while of getting to know her, so some stranger was out of the question. “Y...You must have my apologies, I…”

“If that’s not something you’re comfortable with, Petra, then that’s fine,” reassured Dorothea in a soft voice. A gentle hand rested itself upon the princess’s shoulder, a simple action that was enough to ease a bit of tension. “I wouldn’t dare force you into anything like that.”

Nodding, Petra felt a bit of relief as she cast away the very thought from her mind. Unfortunately, that left them with little to no options. “My grandfather was telling me… either to be finding a husband, or to be making a miracle happen. I am not wanting to have a husband. I have told you many times before, but… the only one who I am wanting is you, Dorothea. The thought of living life without you… it is unbearable to me. I cannot be loving anyone other than you, and… I certainly cannot be loving a man.” It was a fact that she had come to accept over her years at the Officer’s Academy. Though she had sought further explanation initially, encounters with Dorothea had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she possessed no attraction to men. The fantasies in her mind, the little crushes that she had when she was small… they had always been women. How scared and lonely she had felt when this realization had dawned on her. It was only through Dorothea that she learned that she had not been alone in these feelings. Though same-sex marriage was certainly not unheard of in Brigid, and probably more widely seen than in Fódlan, it was another matter when it came to the queen to be. Dorothea had taught her to love and embrace that side of her, the side of her who dreamt of sharing her life with another woman. “It is as though… a knife is being held to my throat. I must be having a child, but…”

“Then let’s just make a miracle happen!” Dorothea blurted out all of a sudden, so sudden that Petra nearly fell backwards. Eagerness shown in her wide emerald eyes, despite the uncertain smile upon her face. “We’re in a world full of magic, and stranger things have happened! Besides, I hardly believe that in one thousand years of dynasties in the Empire and passing down Crests that absolutely no one was gay.” In an instant, Dorothea had grabbed Petra’s hands and entangled their fingers together, a glowing blush beginning to form on her face. “If we just do some research, I’m sure something will pop up! I’d be willing to spend years and years trying to find a way for us to have a child if it meant being able to stay with you.” 

Petra was so taken aback by Dorothea’s outburst that she had no idea exactly where to begin. Her brain was rattling about inside her mind. “A… child…? You and I?” she repeated. “But… even if it is being possible, are you even wanting such a thing?”

“Of course I am!” Dorothea answered immediately. “I mean, I’d love to be a mother! I know we’re not even married yet and it’s so very soon to be even talking about all this, but by the time I figure something out, I’m sure I’ll be ready.” The songstress was talking so rapidly that she barely even had time to catch her breath, and it was apparent in her voice. “I love you madly, and I’m not about to let some ancient tradition get in the way of our marriage. If I have to make something impossible happen to be with you, then I’ll absolutely do it. Quite frankly, I don’t care what it takes. I’d do anything to be with you, Petra!”

A breath hitched within Petra’s throat. Blinking eyes stared at her lover, and within a split second, she was suddenly laughing. The princess keeled over, holding her stomach tightly as bursts of laughter overtook her, shaking her to her core. She wasn’t even sure  _ why _ she was laughing, but not that she had started, she simply could not stop! Was it the sheer ridiculousness of Dorothea’s proposal, or perhaps, was it relief that her lover was not willing to give up on her? Before she knew it, her uproarious laughter had caught on to the other girl, and the whole room was shaking with the echoes of their combined laughs. Once the fit of giggles had finally faded, Petra wiped a single tear from her eye with one of her fingers and shot the other girl the most brilliant grin. “I would be liking that greatly!” she agreed, out of breath. “If we could be having a child… That would be making me the most joyful woman in the whole world!” 

“Then it’s decided! I’ll figure out something one way or another, just you watch, Petra! We’re going to be such happy wives, you and I,” Dorothea declared boldly. “And we’re going to have such a wonderful family!” 

Despite all that had happened, the night ended on a high note. When the two of them finally settled back down amongst their sheets, arms intertwined and bodies held close to one another, all was calm. As Petra closed her eyes, face nestled closely next to her lovers, she wondered if all that talk was truly something within possibility or just something to cheer them up, to give them hope for the future that so terribly wished to tear them apart. Dorothea was right when she said that stranger things had happened, some right before their very eyes back when they were fighting side by side as members of the Black Eagle Strike Force. Still, she would allow their little pipe dream to carry her forward and prevent her from plummeting into darker thoughts of a future away from Dorothea. 

If she kept going strong, well then, perhaps anything could happen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was not intending the fanfic to go this way but i guess it has a way of writing itself. yeah, i guess this really is going to turn out to be some lesbian venting and fantasy of mine, huh? well, no matter, as long as y'all enjoy it. 
> 
> honestly, i just wanna give these girls some happiness! thats what im writing this for. hope y'all are here for it. it wont be without its hardships of course.
> 
> and i hope to god that updating this so soon doesnt mean ao3 is going to push this to the bottom of the page like it normally does. please show that i've updated. this website still has so many glitches.


	3. Distant Memories

The gentle touch of the salty ocean waves lightly tickled Petra’s bare toes as she sat upon the Brigid docks, fishing rod in hand. At her side sat Dorothea, eyes trained upon the lure bobbing gently upon the surface. The Adrestian woman did not particularly understand the thrill behind the art of fishing, but in Brigid, it was considered a tradition as much as it was a sport. Every child of Brigid knew how to reel a fish from the ocean as though it was as simple as learning to walk, and Petra had been no exception. Her lover had offered to teach her the skills necessary for even the very basics of fishing plenty of times, but Dorothea had refused each and every one of them. Simply put, the sport was not for her. Regardless, she did enjoy joining her love for a moment of respite by the sea. 

In her own hands was a book, gently bound with a leather cover. The text within was complex, nearly too much so for the songstress, but her determination would not falter. She was the type of woman to grasp whatever she set her mind to regardless of how far of a leap it would require. Ancient magic was never her area of expertise, but she had fought an ancient dragon and  _ won _ , for the goddess’s sake. She would not allow this to defeat her.

A nibble at the rod caused Petra’s spine to jolt up, forcing her to sit upright. Her brown eyes narrowed in concentration, her tongue sticking out ever so slightly through her teeth as her nimble hands reeled her catch in. With a tug, the creature was pried out of its habitat and into the humid air of the Brigid afternoon. 

Petra took the slippery creature into her grasp. The ocean critter of which she had captured was not one of Fódlan, but a being that was common within the Brigid Seas: a squid. The slimey animal possessed wide, beady eyes and an array of dangling tentacles with suction cups that clung to Petra’s arm. The red-colored cephalopod squirmed against the huntress’s strong hand, but as much as it struggled, it was unable to slip free. 

“This one is being of a decent size,” Petra stated. “It is safe to be keeping it.”

Indeed, the creature reached about halfway up Petra’s forearm, not including the full span of its tentacles. Its mantle was long and plump, sure to be providing a decent amount of meat. The odd fish had always reminded Dorothea of some sort of demonic beast she’d expect to find upon the battlefield, not a delicacy. However, as it turned out, the squid was an important animal to Brigid and a huge part of their cuisine. When Dorothea had first arrived upon the archipelago, it was one of the first meals she had eaten. Petra had watched her reaction with an eager expression upon her face, excited to be sharing a part of her homeland with the woman she loved so much after years of simply describing it to her.

Petra retrieved a thin dagger from a strap upon her skirt with her free hand. She dexterously twirled the blade in her fingers before she placed the tip between the squid’s eyes. A firm cut downwards drained the fish of all its color, and within an instant, it had gone pale white and limp. A quick and painless kill.

“I will be cooking this for you later,” Petra decided proudly, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. “Sharing my homeland’s cooking with you… it is giving me great joy.”

Dorothea had heard plenty about Brigid legends before she had arrived upon the island, back when the two were deeply in love and spoke of a leisure life upon the Brigid shores as some sort of distant fantasy. Of one of the tales was the story of the kraken, a deep sea creature that plagued the oceans of Brigid. It was said to resemble an enormous squid several times the size of a boat, and it would devour whole ships that dare set within its territory. In legends, it had claimed the lives of many innocent citizens, and thus, the Brigid people vowed to take revenge by stealing its own children. Squid were the said children, thus, were prominent in plenty of sacred dishes. It was a good thing that Dorothea found the taste favorable, though she could scarf down almost anything. Still, regardless of what it was, it was always a delight to taste whatever her lover made for her.

“That sounds lovely, Petra,” came Dorothea’s sweet voice, lips tilting into a smile. “I love your cooking.”

A tint of coloration grew on the princess’s cheeks. “You have too much kindness! I am not having too much expertise in cooking, but I am happy to be making food for you. Learning to clean and cook a fish is something we are taught as children in Brigid. My father had been teaching me how to cut up a squid when I was small.” Fond memories glimmered deep within the future queen’s eyes, but they were not without a twinge of sorrow, for the man of which she spoke of was long gone. He had not even lived to see his daughter grow beyond childhood. 

From the way Petra spoke of her father, Dorothea knew he had been a good man. She would always recount hunting trips they went on with nostalgia, describing in perfect detail how her father had shot an enormous buck from many meters away. He had then urged his daughter to deal the final blow, so that she may know and understand the weight of taking a life. 

“...My father was the most wonderful man,” recalled Petra. “I have been telling you many stories about him, but… I am wishing you could have met him.” Her eyes drifted towards the great sea, watching the waves lap at the rocks nearby. “I would have liked you, I am thinking. He had fondness for singing. He was always teaching me hunting songs of Brigid.” Ocean air lightly tossed her fuschia mane into the breeze, strands of hair blowing into her face. “I am wanting to think… that he would be blessing our marriage. He was always saying that he wanted me to have happiness, above all else.”

Dorothea shifted slightly upon the wooden dock, blinking at this slight moment of weakness her love was showing. “I’m sure he’s watching us, Petra,” assured the songstress in a gentle voice. “And I’m sure he’s happy for us.”

The subject of conversation had forced Dorothea to recall her own parents. It had been ages since she had last thought of her mother, who was by now a distant, foggy memory. It was hard for Dorothea to even remember her mother’s own face. She was a diligent woman, caring and thorough in her work. She had lived within a noble castle in Enbarr, caring for the noble ladies and taking care of their every need. How Dorothea had come to be, the opera singer would never know. The identity of her father had never been discussed, and all the young Dorothea had ever known was that he was not present. It had once occurred to her that perhaps she was the illegitimate child of some nobleman, but she had no way of ever knowing, so she never dared entertain the thought. By now, Dorothea could not even remember what ill fate her mother met, only that afterwards, she had been coldly thrown upon the street of Enbarr. The nobles of which her mother had served had wanted nothing to do with the newly orphaned child, and cared not for what would happen to her. 

“Yes,” agreed Petra. “He is with the spirits now, protecting all of Brigid, and protecting me. When I visit his grave next, I will be asking him to bless our marriage. I will be taking you to meet him as well.” Nostalgia littered the princess’s wistful expression as she dove further into the recesses of her mind. “He was the best father I could ever be asking for. Even though he is no longer being with us, I am glad to have had him. I am not thinking I would be the same person without him. Almost everything that I am knowing about hunting had been taught by him.”

Dorothea’s curiosity had been piqued by the conversation. Her hand absentmindedly brushed down the spine of her book, and she was reminded of their strange circumstances, of the ultimatum they had been given: have a child, or be forced to surrender Petra to a suitable husband who could provide her with one. Back when she was a student at the Officer’s Academy, tainted by the fairytale preconceptions of romance that had arisen due to being apart of an Opera Company, she had occasionally wondered what sort of a mother she would make. Given her limited experiences with her own parental figures, most of her ideas were foggy, at best. Of course, children had always been apart of the whole idea of marrying a rich man when she was younger, but now that she was confronted with the possibility of actually having a child, she had to rethink things.

What would a child between her and Petra be like? For one thing, their child would be a prince or princess. It would have to be raised as an heir to the Brigid throne, and thus, would have to be indulged in their culture and language. Petra could take the child hunting and fishing, teaching it the same skills she was taught when she was young. Dorothea, on the other hand, would play a much different role. Though she could not spread the ways of Brigid to her child, she could teach it how to sing and use magic. A joyous smile formed upon her face at the mere notion. How interesting it would be indeed. A future like that… if that was what was in store for her, then she would absolutely continue her tireless pursuit of study. 

“All of those things that your father taught you… you’d teach that to your child as well, wouldn’t you?” Dorothea brought up, deciding to voice her thoughts.

Petra nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! I would be teaching my child all about hunting and fishing. I would want to be passing down the learnings of my father.” A warm smile lit her features. 

“I see… I bet you’d make a wonderful mother, Petra,” mused Dorothea, slinking once again into her fantastical thoughts. It was a dangerous thing, allowing herself to envision such an impossible future, but she could not help herself. Perhaps these visions would only spur her on further. 

Her words managed to elicit a giggle from her lover. “You have my gratitude. I am thinking that you will be as well!” she enthused. 

“Still on board with the whole research idea?” she asked, prodding the conversation further. 

“Yes! But I am having hope that you are not wearing yourself out. It would be filling me with sadness. I am always having concern for you,” replied Petra. By now, she had set her squid within the fishing box she had brought with her, filled to the brim with ice to keep the creature fresh for consumption. “Please be taking care of yourself.”

“I always am, Petra, I promise.”

Silence fell upon the ocean air. Petra had returned to her sport, casting her rod out once again into the deep blue sea. Dorothea, meanwhile, had flipped open the book and began to scan through its pages, brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of everything. Though it was more than difficult to search the book on the subject matter of spawning a child, she absorbed all the information within nevertheless. Perhaps anything could lead to a clue, and perhaps she could even divise the spell herself. Regardless, the only person she had to assist with her journey right now was herself, as Petra did not know the first thing about magic. Perhaps a letter to someone like Linhardt was in order. He was someone who studied strange bits that captured his attention, such as crests and other magical pursuits. Not only that, but it was possible that she could pry a bit into Edelgard’s life. 

She had long ago known that her emperor was in love with their professor. Before Petra and Dorothea had departed for Brigid, they had made their vow publicly known amongst other members of the Black Eagle Strike Force. Once or twice, Edelgard had mentioned her decision to pass down the throne to an outsider instead of a child of hers, which made Dorothea wonder if she even intended on having a child. Regardless, if Byleth or Edelgard would ever decide to seek out a child, perhaps they too would know something on the subject matter. She certainly wasn’t alone in the world of women who loved other women. Either way, the thousand year old dynasty of the Hresvelgs could possible hold a clue or two. All of these ideas were good tangents to lead down. As her brain absorbed a passage on some mathematical formulas required for spells, Dorothea heard another tug at Petra’s fishing pole. This time, however, the splash was much, much louder than it had been previous.

The huntress jumped to her feet, eyes widening, as she tugged backwards upon the pole. Her muscles heaved as she took a deep breath in, clenching her teeth together. Whatever was on the other end was struggling within the water, causing a storm of splashes to engulf the dock. It certainly was not going to go down without a fight, but Petra too was unwilling to relent. Dorothea quickly closed her book and hugged it tightly to her chest to prevent the sea from staining any of its pages, and her eyes watched with intrigue as her lover began to heave the squirming catch onto the deck. 

What escaped the water was a squid of enormous size, about the length of her entire arm. It struggled, its beak stuck upon the jig that had lured it, desperate to return to its land. Petra, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted. She nearly hopped up and down out of sheer eliation. “Dorothea! Look!” she shouted, a proud warrior’s grin engulfing her face. “I have gotten the victory!”

Laughing, Dorothea nodded. “I see! And what a big catch it is,” she remarked, admiring the heaving creature. “But you’d better take care of it quickly before it struggles back into the water.”

Realization lit within Petra’s eyes as she scurried to do just that. As she had done once before, the huntress retrieved her dagger from her side and slit the creature between the eyes, killing it instantly. Its reddish hue faded to clear as it breathed its last, tentacles still squirming slightly. The dock of which they stood on was now drenched by the struggle and the water droplets still rolling off of the giant cephlapod’s body, so Dorothea stood and stepped backwards so as not to ruin her dress. 

“I am having great joy, Dorothea!” proclaimed Petra. “This will be wonderful for cooking! I will be making you the biggest dishes in all of Brigid, just for you!”

“Not just for me, I hope,” laughed Dorothea. “I could hardly eat that much.”

“Then… I will be sharing it with everyone! With my cousins, and even my grandfather. We will be having a great feast tonight!” she revised. Regardless, cheer painted her expression. With all the anxieties the pair had been through in the last few weeks, seeing Petra so genuinely cheerful made Dorothea’s heart throb. The adorable smile upon her face, her desire to make everyone happy, how expertly she had reeled in that strong creature… all were reasons to remind Dorothea of just how much she loved Petra.

“Sounds like a good idea to me!” agreed the former opera singer with a grin. “I’ll look forward to tonight.” Perhaps she could cast aside her studies just for one time. What good would it be if she indulged herself so deeply in her future dreams that she did not enjoy the present? For the moment, she would allow herself this. “Maybe we could do something afterwards, just the two of us… like… you know. Enjoying a nice Brigid night…”

“I am liking the sound of that,” agreed Petra, a flirtatious hint in her voice. 

Giggling mischievously, Dorothea cast aside her worries. All that heir business could wait. For now, it was just her and Petra… and the giant squid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the squid thing is a bit of an inside joke between me and a few friends but like, i love squid, so now you're all subject to squid as well.
> 
> i always have wondered about petra's father and i'm sad they didn't discuss him much. likewise, i wish dorothea elaborated more on how she came to be a street urchin. i decided i'd dig into it a bit in this chapter, but only on the surface level. i might have them discuss all this again at another time.
> 
> anyway! if you read this please leave a kudo and a comment, it goes a long way helping me out. especially comments, i'd love to hear your thoughts on the fanfic so far! oh god, i sound like a youtuber. ANYWAY! thank you so much <3. 
> 
> also i cant believe i'm updating in the middle of the day instead of 5 am. i consciously chose not to this time so... we will see what happens.


	4. Declarations

“You intend on doing what?”

The king’s booming voice echoed throughout the grand hall of Macneary castle. The man himself sat upon a regal throne made of aged wood, creatures of Brigid carefully etched within the surface while stark white bones lined the back. Furs skinned from only the rarest of game created a comfortable seat for the old man, who was slouching rather than sitting up straight as one would expect a king to. His old age had begun to do a number on his brittle bones, as well as his posture. Yet, as he looked upon his granddaughter and her intended spouse, a mix of something between bewilderment and disappointment blazed within his dusky eyes.

“We will be having a child,” Petra stated once again for his old ears. Normally, the two would converse in their native language, however, with Dorothea so involved in the conversation, it was of utmost importance that she understand every word. “Er… that is, be trying to have a child.”

The king cocked his head to the side, trying to decipher whether or not his granddaughter was telling some elaborate joke. However, the completely earnest look upon her face led no room for jest. Dorothea, meanwhile, felt like shriveling into a ball like some sort of terrified mouse underneath the man’s powerful stare. She attempted to remain still upon her feet as she forced her trembling body to calm. She felt as though she was tip-toeing upon the ledge of panic, but yet, she forced upon herself a brave expression. She had chosen to come with Petra, thus, it was no time for her to be running. She had to be strong.

“In no part of Brigid history have two women been able to have a child together,” stated the old man. “I wish to know how you intend to pull off such a feat, and whether or not I should even entertain the very thought. It would be much quicker to find a husband than allow you to indulge in mere fantasies. I intend to have you coronated within the next four moons, and with it, I wish for you to have a husband to crown king at your side. Tell me, is there any reality in your words, or do you merely intend to waste my time?”

His words were chilling and harsh, leaving no room for kindness for his beloved granddaughter. Of course, such accusations stung deeply, but neither woman was interested in backing down. 

“Please, grandfather, be hearing me out,” Petra pleaded. “You were saying that I am either to be finding a husband, or making a miracle happen. So, I am wanting to make a miracle happen.” The queen-to-be’s arm wrapped itself around her lover’s waist, pulling the trembling girl close to her side. “Dorothea and I are willing to be researching this. In recent years, the advancements in magic and science have been great. I am thinking… to be having a child is not so impossible.”

The king let out a deep sigh, hand reaching to massage his wrinkled temples. “Do you have any leads? Anywhere to search?” he questioned further.

“Yes, actually,” Dorothea spoke out, finally deciding to raise her voice despite the slight tremble. “I believe there have been such children in the past in Adrestian history. Plus, well, it’s more than likely that the Emperor herself is seeking the same thing… so, we wouldn’t be alone in our search. We’d have the entirety of the Adrestian Empire working with us.”

Petra’s grandfather huffed. “That does not mean much. If it amounts to nothing, I will have wasted my time waiting on a hopeless dream.” His serious gaze now fell solely upon Petra, eyes prying into her soul. “You know well that I do not have much longer, my granddaughter. Soon, the Spirits shall come to claim me. I must ascertain that I have a proper great grandchild to leave the crown and throne to when you too are claimed from this world. The duty to inspect the child and confirm that it indeed has the blessed blood of the Macnearys falls on my shoulders. I cannot be sitting idly around waiting for some child that may never come to be. It is far safer to ensure that I have a suitable heir in the safe hands of a husband.”

Frustration bubbled within Dorothea’s stomach. She ground her teeth together, clicking her tongue inside her mouth. She could not lash out at the man who would decide her future, but oh how she wished she could. 

“I… I am knowing this,” Petra replied, desperation in her tone. “It is giving me great sorrow to know that you will be passing soon, but… you must have understanding, grandfather. For me to be loving a man… such a thing is impossible.” Dorothea could feel Petra’s body stiffen against her own, the hand around her waist growing rigid. “I have had this knowing for many years now… that I cannot be loving a man. You have my apologies for giving you difficulty, but I cannot change who I am. I have only ever been wanting to love Dorothea. If I were to marry a man, I would be full of sorrow.”

To this confession, the king did not outwardly react. “Love is not always something that comes with marriage, Petra. Regardless of your lack of attraction to men, you can still have a healthy child and political marriage. As for your lover… you are more than welcome to employ her as your concubine. I see no issue in allowing for that.”

A… concubine? Dorothea gulped as panic engulfed her very being, memories flashing back to her hazy childhood. Though her mother had certainly not officially been a concubine, she ended up fulfilling that role to the wealthy nobleman that she served. Even thinking of her father and the twisted relationship he had with her mother sent chills down the songstress’s spine. The last thing she wanted was to be reduced to that very same role: a woman of no status who could easily be thrown away, a mere plaything for a noble. Of course, Petra would never have a heart as cold and cruel as her father’s, but the anxiety still remained. 

“No,” Petra rejected immediately. “I do not want Dorothea to be my... ‘concubine.’ I want her to be my wife.” Her reply was firm, and though Dorothea had expected such an answer, she still felt a warm rush of relief. Determination sparked behind her eyes, and bravery adorned her expression. “I will not be taking a husband, no matter what you say, Grandfather. Dorothea and I… we have been in love for many years. The only happiness that I am wanting is our marriage, and for that, I am willing to be having a child. I am willing to be doing the impossible. So please, be allowing… no, allow us this. I will do everything in my power to find a way for Dorothea and I to be having a child, and I will not back down… I do not care what it takes. There is nothing that will stop me.” Her tattooed arm went to pull Dorothea closer to her body, practically slamming the girl against her side. “So please, Grandfather, allow us this. There is nothing more I am wanting in this life than to be standing by the side of Dorothea.”

A nervous breath hitched in Dorothea’s throat, though her heart thrummed at her love’s determined words. Never in a thousand years had she thought she’d find someone who would love her so deeply, so endlessly, and now, her lover was standing up to a  _ king _ for her sake. Despite the situation, she could feel herself falling in love with the brave huntress all over again. A small tear formed within her left eye, threatening to spill over, but she did not allow it the pleasure of doing so. Showing weakness in front of the man that had the power to determine her fate was not in her plans for tonight.

The grand hall remained silent. The king shifted to his side, placing his elbow upon the fur-lined armrest of his throne and holding his head in his hand. Eyes darted from Dorothea to Petra, and his lips formed a thin line as he mulled over his granddaughter’s bold words. His expression was as impossible to read as ever, and as his judging gaze scanned up and down her body, the songstress nearly fainted from anticipation. It was only her lover’s strong arms and loving embrace that prevented her from melting down on the spot, though her heart was still speeding out of control. She would not allow herself to lose to panic once more, especially now that she needed to appear stronger than ever. There were many obstacles that she had to overcome in her life, going from being the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman and his maid. to an orphan on the streets of Enbarr, to a songstress who was highly desired by hordes of revolting men. Yet, for some reason, standing here before the King of Brigid was making them all look pale in comparison. 

“Six moons,” he finally spoke. 

Petra looked up, confusion apparent in her expression. “...Hm…?”

“Six moons,” the king repeated. “I will give the two of you six moons. The coronation will continue as planned, without a husband. By the end of the six moons, if either of you are not with child, I will have Petra married off to a husband. Is that understood?”

A gasp escaped Dorothea’s throat, her heart beating with joy as her emerald eyes grew wide. She had not been expecting anything when Petra had asked Dorothea to join her in revealing their odd decision to her grandfather, and more than anything else had imagined herself being sent home upon an Adrestian ship. Petra’s grip around her waist tightened beyond her usual strength, and Dorothea nearly spluttered out. “T...Thank you!” she gasped out, struggling a bit to breathe given how tightly her lover was squeezing her. Even being given the opportunity to  _ try  _ in their seemingly impossible dream was enough for her at the moment. In a flash, almost all anxiety had been replaced by overpowering relief. Despite the arm around her that was constricting her harder than ever before, she suddenly felt as though she could relax. 

“Do not thank me yet,” interrupted Petra’s grandfather. “I will not allow either of you to marry until I am certain that the child that you may bear is without question a Macneary. Once I have decided that the spirits have given you their blessing, I will give you my permission to wed. Until then, I expect you two to be diligent in your pursuits. Do  _ not _ waste my time with this. I will be very cross if it turns out that you are merely playing games.” 

“We will not be!” Petra cried out, unable to contain her excitement. She looked nearly ready to leap into the air, her whole body trembling with glee. Upon looking at her lover, Dorothea noticed that her brown eyes were beginning to well up with hot, salty tears. “Thank you for giving us this opportunity, Grandfather! Dorothea and I will be looking with diligence! I will not be letting you down. We will be having a child, I have certainty.”

“Hmph,” was all Petra got in response from the old man. 

Finally, Petra released her lover from her death grip and instead grasped the songstress’s hand, beginning to tug it eagerly. “Come now, Dorothea! I am not wanting to waste a moment more!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the high ceilings. Eagerness shone within her tear-filled eyes, and Dorothea knew that forcing her to stay any longer would probably cause her to burst out of the room in a flurry anyway. Besides, she herself was more than fine with leaving, given the rather heavy atmosphere that had been looming over them for the last few minutes. “We must be researching now!” 

“All right, all right,” laughed Dorothea lightly, pink growing on her cheeks. How adorable Petra was whenever she got excited about something. “Come now, love.”

As the two of them left the grand hall, a pair of eyes bore down on them from the grand throne. The king shifted about, mumbling to himself about the future of Brigid. “ _ For the sake of my Granddaughter, Spirits, I hope you are willing to bless them with a child _ ,” he spoke out to the crisp air. From an opening in one of the windows came a gentle breeze, stirring some of the gray hairs upon his chin. A sign of something, for certain, but not one he could decipher.

* * *

On the way back to their room, Petra had practically skipped through the halls in glee, as though she were a prancing deer upon a warm spring day, free as could be. Dorothea had watched in amusement as her beautiful lover rushed back, trying her best not to knock over any precious family heirlooms in the process. The queen-to-be was never shy about showing her emotions as plain as day upon her face, like an open book, unlike her rather stern grandfather who could think about any number of things with a completely blank expression, devoid of any hints. In a way, Dorothea adored how simple natured her huntress could be. It was far easier than playing any games with a skeevy man whenever she was on the date, trying to determine whether or not he heralded any interest in her beyond her voice and beauty, and whether or not he was simply looking to bring her back to his bedroom. Petra never attempted to hide anything from Dorothea, and never once had the songstress questioned the extent of their love for each other. It was pure and real, certainly realer than anything else she had ever known.

Once they had returned to their quarters, Petra had plopped herself down upon her bed and began to kick her feet off the sides with bountiful energy. A huge grin spread from ear to ear as she looked on at her lover, body bouncing up and down in her seat. 

“Dorothea! I am having so much happiness!” she gushed. “We have been given the chance to be having a child!”

“I know!” breathed Dorothea, still not believing it entirely herself. Despite the rocky road ahead of them, it felt like the biggest hurdle was out of the way. “Sure, we only have six moons, but…”

“It is just meaning that we need to begin looking right away,” Petra finished. “And I am wanting to start right now! I cannot be waiting much longer!”

At her lover’s eagerness, Dorothea let out a soft laugh. She slunk over towards their bed and joined Petra at her side, folding her arms together in her lap. Her emerald eyes shone with happiness, and a crisp blush formed upon her cheeks. Truly, there was nothing more adorable than seeing her happy girlfriend. “Now hold on just a minute, Petra. We still have a lot we have to discuss before we get into the specifics of how to make it happen, right?”

“Ah, yes. My apologies for getting ahead of myself,” Petra replied back quickly, slightly embarrassed. “What is it that you want to be talking about?”

Well, there were plenty of things to consider. “Well, how about if we start off with how this is all going to work? I mean, to have a child, someone’s going to have to carry it. I’m assuming it’s all going to be the same as a normal pregnancy, just… well, conceiving it is going to be different.” She didn’t feel as though she had to detail how things  _ normally _ worked, as Petra probably knew well already. 

“Oh. I had not thought of that,” Petra remarked. Her face fell as her brows furrowed in deep thought. “Are you… having a preference?”

“Well, to be honest… You’re going to be coronated in a few moons, and I don’t think I’d want you to have the extra stress of being pregnant on top of all that. So… I was thinking… maybe I could carry it, if that’s alright with you.” Though she had heard plenty of horror stories about the so-called ‘joys’ of pregnancy, she had long ago hardened herself to the idea. It had always been part of her plan to marry and have children, though back in the day she had thought it would be to a rich nobleman and not a literal princess of another country. The last thing she wanted was for her poor Petra to herald far too many burdens at once. To carry the weight of an entire country  _ and  _ a baby was quite a lot to ask for. “Though I suppose your grandfather might be worried about all that, since there will be no real way for him to tell that it's really your child until its born.”

Petra’s face contorted in thought. “Even so, my grandfather will be checking the child when it is born. It has been a tradition in Brigid for many centuries. Even if the child is to come from the womb of a Macneary, it still must be made sure that they are carrying royal blood,” she explained. “The child must be offered up to the Brigid spirits. It is then up for the spirits to determine whether or not they are having the blood to rule. Even when I am queen, it is up to the oldest Macneary to be doing the communing.”

Well that certainly seemed a bit strange, but Dorothea had learned not to question Brigid culture. They had their own way of doing things, just as Adrestia had their own quirks that Petra had to settle into when she had first arrived in the Empire. Besides, this was something that could easily work out in their favor. As long as Dorothea was pregnant within the next six moons, the king had made his promise not to marry Petra off. How strange it was, doing all this backwards. Normally, one was  _ supposed _ to get engaged and married before having a child, but Dorothea supposed she would be fine with this. She herself wasn’t even a child that had been born from marriage, and it wasn’t as though she was ever expecting things to go ‘normally’ with Petra. 

“I am just wondering…” Petra interrupted, her frown slightly crooked. “If you are really all right with having a child so soon.”

It was as though Petra had read Dorothea’s thoughts. It was true that she would have chosen to wait longer if she had the option to settle into things normally, but the situation wasn’t going to allow her to be patient. 

“Of course I have my misgivings,” voiced Dorothea. “I… never really had a real childhood. My mother died from illness when I was small, and my father was… well, let’s just say I never knew him, not really. I don’t really know what parenting is like firsthand… I only know from other people.” Never had she really discussed the circumstances of her birth Petra, only in passing had she mentioned her mother, and she certainly hadn’t brought up her father. “But… I’m willing to do anything for you, Petra. And I certainly am not opposed to having a child. I think the idea is lovely, actually!”

Her eyes glistened as she imagined what strange and wonderful things motherhood would bring. A child between her and Petra… what would it look like? Whatever it would turn out to be, Dorothea would love it unconditionally. The thought of her own tragic childhood only spurred on her protective instincts further, a desire to shield her potential child from the horrors she had experienced overtaking her. The child would certainly have an adoring family, with two dedicated mothers making sure it would grow up taken care of and showered with love. The very idea of a child between them was sparking odd maternal feelings she had never thought she possessed. Although it was rather quick for them to dive into motherhood right away, if it paved the way to a brilliant future, Dorothea didn’t mind.

“If you have certainty, then I am fine,” Petra decided with a nod. “I am wondering what it would be like to be a mother. I did not know my mother for very long, but I remember my father well, so I am having some knowledge of parenting…”

“You’d be such a wonderful mother, Petra. I know I said it before, but… I can just see it. We’ll make great parents, I promise.”

With that said, Petra began to smile once again. Excitement once again took root within her, and in a mere moment, she was bouncing up and down on the bed again. “Then… if you are having certainty, let us be searching! I am not knowing where to start searching, but maybe the library will have some clues. I will look there, if you are wanting.”

“That’s a good idea, Petra,” Dorothea replied. Though if what Petra’s grandfather said about there never being a child between two women was true, the likelihood of the Brigid library holding such information was slim. Dorothea, on the other hand, had her attention turned towards Adrestia. It had been a while since she had sent a proper letter to Edelgard asking for details on her own love life, which was characteristic of her given how nosy she could be in matters of romance. The Empire had several studious mages employed to it, including Linhardt, Hanneman, and Annette, all of which she hoped would be willing to lend her a helping hand. Though Linhardt was known for being incredibly lazy and unwilling to budge on matters that didn’t interest him, Dorothea was an expert when it came to spurring people on, and she knew that working a bit of her magic could get him going in no time. “I think I’ll start by writing a letter to our dear Edie. It’s been so long since I’ve heard from her on matters that didn’t involve politics. Perhaps one of our friends from the Officer’s Academy might know something.”

“I am liking that idea greatly! Shall we be starting then?” Petra asked, clearly ready to leap off her feet and begin at a moment’s notice.

“Let’s.”

With that all said and done, Dorothea hurried to fetch ink and a quill to begin her long letter to Edelgard. With new hope burning within her heart, the far fetched dream of having a loving family didn’t seem that distant anymore. The woman had come so far in life, and upon every step of the way, had to find her own path. This was no different. As long as she stayed focused on the matter at hand, she  _ would _ be successful, no question about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this really turned into a domestic child fic huh, well that's fine by me. i kinda just wanted this fanfic to be mostly domestic fluff with a side helping of angst anyway, so if that's what you're here for then good! congratulations! 
> 
> wanna shout out everyone who's left a kudo so far and especially those who've commented, really helps me out A LOT. i absolutely love hearing everyone's thoughts on the fanfic so far, and honestly im open to suggestions for like, if you want a chapter that's themed after something. right now im just sort of spurring the plot along.
> 
> also my dumb ass didn't realize dorothea canonically talked about her parents in her b support with hanneman of all people, but it turns out i wasn't so far off in my last chapter, so i didn't go back and edit anything. if petra ever actually mentions her parents in her supports at all let me know bc as far as im aware she doesn't, i haven't read all of them. 
> 
> ANYway!!! if you're enjoying so far i'd love to hear from you! leave a comment and don't forget to kudo <3. thanks. stan petra and dorothea.


	5. Hopes

It was a soaring pegasus clad in red and black that interrupted a rather average and uneventful day about three moons later.

Dorothea had been lounging idly within her room, surrounded on either side by heaps upon heaps of books she had recovered from the grand library. Though Brigid was not a country that valued magic nor a country that widely taught it to its children, there were a handful of scholars who had developed spells and tactics far different from Fódlan. Unfortunately for Dorothea, most of the time spent reading the books was devoted to deciphering the Brigaeli text. While she read an old tome, there was always a tattered, well used dictionary by her side, annotated and scribbled all over. Though she was ever diligent, the young songstress had yet to come to the breakthrough she so desperately needed.

It was one of Petra’s cousins who had interrupted her with a knock upon the door, face flustered. The young man had stuttered out that Imperial ships had arrived in the dock for their regularly scheduled trade, though one pegasus knight had made a point to fly directly from the boat to the courtyard. Sweat dribbled down his very red cheeks, clearly embarrassed at having to intrude upon his cousin’s shared room. Perhaps he had been expecting to find something more compromising.

Regardless, Dorothea had made her way to the grand gates, where she was indeed met by a pegasus rider wearing traditional black Adrestian armor. She saluted upon seeing the former Imperial general.

“Dorothea Arnault, ma’am,” greeted the pegasus knight. “I was sent by her Majesty to deliver a package to you. She was insistent that it get in to you right away, ma’am.”

A curious eyebrow furrowed as she flickered her eyes downwards towards a carefully packaged box at the pegasus flier’s feet. “Oh? I suppose Edie’s been getting my letters, then,” she commented, remembering the flurry of papers she had sent off with the Adrestian ships in the last few rounds of trade. The songstress had frantically scribbled out requests for help with ink, detailing the situation she and Petra had found themselves in and the desire for a swift solution. She had described, in detail, her plight with digging for ancient books and deciphering Brigidan text whenever her beloved wasn’t home. Her hand drifted downwards to grasp the box. “May I?”

The pegasus knight nodded starkly, and Dorothea took the delicately wrapped box in her hands. Her heart had already begun to race even before knowing its contents as her mind spiraled into the depths of her imagination. Perhaps Edelgard had already found a solution? It had been three moons since she had first began sending off letters to the Emperor, desperate for information. In those last moons, Dorothea had grown more and more frantic in her search for information. Though six moons might seem like a long time, the songstress was already feeling the pressure of the imposed limit. 

Six moons to do the impossible.

“Thank you. Was there anything else?”

The pegasus knight simply shook her head. “No, ma’am. Her Highness sends her best regards.”

“Likewise,” Dorothea replied back.

The songstress bid farewell to the pegasus knight before scurrying back to her room, package clutched tightly to her chest. Excitement sparked through her as her mind raced, wondering what Edelgard could have  _ possibly _ found. She nearly tripped over the grand fur rug that lined the floor on her way back, but quickly collected herself with the faintest of red tints upon her face. She wasted no time in pulling the door to their room open, hurrying to the bed and plopping right down. Her fingers pried the box open, tugging at the strings that held it together still. 

Within the box lay an ancient book, bound by fading leather. Atop the book was a letter, which Dorothea unfolded immediately. 

_ “Dear Dorothea, _

_ It is a pleasure to hear from you again. I hope all is well in Brigid. The Empire has been hard at work, and I’ve hardly had a moment to spare. I have been reading your letters, but it is only now that I finally have an opportunity to reply. I must admit, I’m a bit surprised. I’ve always known you as the type to be rather bold, but standing up to the king of Brigid like that… well. I suppose isn’t exactly far fetched.  _

_ As for your situation, I’ve certainly done a bit of digging myself. I won’t comment on why, perhaps you’ll have to come to Fódlan or I to Brigid to get the full details. I found that Linhardt had been doing some research himself for his own personal reasons, again which I will not go into in detail, and uncovered a bit of information. Indeed, there has been a child between two women in the past. One of my ancestors, in fact. The child was conceived through magic and grew to be just as healthy and strong as any other, and eventually, the Emperor. This discovery surprised me, as it wasn’t ever made public knowledge, but was archived in our family’s history books.  _

_ It took a bit of research. Linhardt and Annette were both on board, and have been working tirelessly for all of us since. I’m happy to report that we have indeed found the spell you two will need. There is no guarantee that it will work, but it certainly is worth a try. Linhardt has told me that it might actually take a few tries. I know you two only have three moons left, but I hope that time is sufficient. The instructions as well as all materials you may need are included within the package. Of course, it will require someone with plenty of skill in magic to cast, so I wouldn’t recommend having Petra try it. I wish you all the best of luck. _

_ Regards, _

_ Edelgard. _

_ P.S: Please let me know if it works.” _

The hands Dorothea had been using to hold the letter up were now shaking, eyes wide and mouth left agape. An unsteady breath left her lips, as her brain tried to process what she was reading. Three whole moons of absolutely nothing from Edelgard, and she finally replied with this? Perhaps, had she been working hard for the sake of the two of them all that time? Now that the answer was right in front of her, she hardly knew what to do. The slip of paper fell from her unsteady fingers and she was left staring at the wall, her heart beating faster than ever before.

She shook her head to recover herself and dove straight for the package, unveiling a green leather-bound book with Linhardt’s name printed upon it in golden letters. The songstress flipped the cover open and began to scan the instructions. 

In order for it to work, she had to practice a certain spell, which then would have to be cast upon herself. Once the spell had been placed upon her, all she had to do was perform a transfer of genetic material between her and Petra. That was easy enough, she thought to herself. During her time at Garegg Mach, she had trained to be a proficient magic user and had mastered a good number of spells, including what was thought to be the most powerful spell known to Fódlan: Agnea’s Arrow. A complex spell such as this should be easy enough to master, even though she hadn’t exactly been pracitcing her use of magic for anything other than starting a quick bonfire. Tentatively, Dorothea reached out a hand and conjured a few sparks of electricity within the palm of her hand, testing to see if her well-honed magical abilities had not faded. While they had been of great use during the war, she had allowed all the powerful spells she had mastered to sit idly in the back of her mind. She had no more reason to fight.

Her fingers drifted back to the book, flipping through pages elegantly written in expensive ink. Linhardt had clearly put a lot of effort into it, and the mere thought caused her heart to throb. Though the lazy man was never too open about expressing his sentiments towards others, this was more than enough to show that he cared. 

The book warned that the spell had not been cast in many, many hundred years, and thus there was no way to know how long it would take to work. The uncertainty of it all caused seeds of worry to sow themselves within the pit of the former songstress’s stomach, knowing that time was not on her side. She was already halfway to her deadline, and even if she were to become pregnant, she would not know for at the very least a whole moon. Knowing this, Dorothea knew that she had to begin as soon as she possibly could. She nearly tucked away the books that she had been reading previously and lay herself down upon the bed, flipping back to the very first page. 

Diligent eyes and a focused mind studied the book for hours. Petra herself was not there, for her whole day was occupied both with hunting and practice for her upcoming coronation. Though Dorothea wasn’t exactly familiar with the cultural procedures for the coronation, she did know that one part of it involved Petra memorizing a long scripture that she would have to recite before an audience consisting of just about every single Brigid citizen. Even those who lived upon the other islands would make the long journey to the capital in order to witness the crowning of their new ruler. Unfortunately, it meant that the two women hadn’t had much time to spend with each other, aside from their few hours spent together in their room at night when they had both finished their duties. All the while when she was studying, Dorothea’s heart was thumping with excitement over getting to share the good news with her lover, so much so that she was fidgeting the entire time she was studying.

Petra finally returned from her work around nine o’clock that night, when the Brigid sun had already set and made way for the glistening moon. Though the summer sun was unrelenting, Brigid nights only offered little respite from the scorching heat. Thus, when Petra entered the room, her body was caked with sweat from her long day spent practicing and hunting, despite how little she tended to wear. 

“Dorothea?” Petra spoke out, immediately noticing the new book. Of course, she knew well that it was the day that Brigid was due for a shipment from Adrestia. “Is that…?”

Dorothea greeted her future wife with a wide smile and a nod of confirmation. “Yes! Edie finally got back to us. The whole time, she’s been working with Linhardt and Annette on finding a way for us to have a child, and finally, they found the answer we needed! It’s possible, Petra…!” she gushed out, her excitement apparent in her upbeat tone. 

Immediately, the Brigid Princess hurried to her lover’s side. She climbed atop the bed and peeked over Dorothea’s shoulder, reading the words upon the page she had open. Though she could make little sense of it all, given her talent for magic was… well, non-existent, glee grew upon her face regardless. “You are… telling the truth!?” she gasped out. “Then we must be trying it at once!”

Dorothea could not help but laugh at how adorably eager the love of her life was. “Hold on, Petra. I’m not finished practicing yet. Once I’ve gotten everything sorted out, we can try, all right? Of course, Lin says that it can’t be expected to work on the very first try, so we’ll have to do it a few times.”

“Ah, I have understanding. Then we can be doing it as many times as possible. We still have six moons.”

“Not… quite. I mean, it takes a bit to know that I’m pregnant, right? We’ll have to start as soon as possible if we want to make the deadline,” the former songstress pointed out, her face contorted with worry. “Besides, no one’s tried this in a very long time, so we don’t know if this whole thing is even going to work out, and—”

“—It is alright, Dorothea. Do not have worry!” Petra interrupted her, putting a halt to Dorothea’s anxious rambling. The confident grin that took residence upon her face was enough to cause Dorothea’s unsteady heart to calm. “You are having much talent… and you are always so strong! You will not be failing. If it is Linhardt who has helped make the spell, I am sure it will be working.” A reassuring hand placed itself firmly upon Dorothea’s bare shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. “We will be having a child. I am promising you this.”

A sigh of relief escaped Dorothea, and a warm smile took the place of the anxious frown. “Thank you, Petra. You always know just what to say,” she replied. Truly, Petra was always a glimmer of light within the dark, always positive, always radiating happiness and warmth. She was so gentle, so kind, and her heart was full of love. 

With that, Dorothea returned to her studies, Petra at her side. She spent an hour or so tentatively fiddling with the magic, bolts of light crackling between her fingertips. Once she felt she was confident to attempt the first cast, she took a deep breath. She held her hand high in the air, spreading her fingers apart, and whispered a few words under her breath. Brilliant light shimmered from her fingers and ebbed downwards, encasing her in a golden flare. She felt a tingling sensation throughout her body, but it didn’t hurt in the slightest, nor did it feel uncomfortable. When the magic faded, she was left with the feeling of faint twinkles of electricity sparking within her, proof that it was affecting her. The spell was said to last for a handful of hours, and in that time, she had to transfer Petra’s genetic material to herself.

“Let’s try this, Petra,” Dorothea breathed, touching her lover’s shoulders and lightly massaging them. “All we need to do is… well, I suppose… something like this?”

Without a further warning, Dorothea touched her lips to Petra’s, tying them in a deep kiss. Though Petra looked surprised, she soon reacted by closing her eyes and melting into the kiss, her hands seeking to wrap themselves around her lover’s waist. Their tongues met in a fiery dance as they sought to feel each other further, deeper. Soon enough, Dorothea found herself pressed to the soft furs, Petra looming above her, their bodies pressing close together. There was nothing quite like the flurry of embers that would shoot through her body whenever she was this close to Petra, Dorothea thought to herself, combing her hands through Petra’s mane of fuschia. The future queen’s mouth tasted faintly of Brigid spices, with just a tang of fruit. Their lips remained pressed together for what felt like centuries, until Dorothea finally pulled back.

“Just like that, see?” Dorothea told her, a proud smile painting her face.

Petra gazed downwards at the girl beneath her. “Are you sure that is being enough?” she asked, the faintest of smirks forming.

“Well, I can’t really be certain, no. The book did say that kissing would do the trick, but…” The look upon her face shifted to a more mischievous grin. “Perhaps, if you’d like to make doubly sure…”

“I would be liking that greatly,” Petra whispered, matching her lover’s playful expression.

The two met in another kiss as the night grew darker around them, sparks of love floating in the air. When all was said and done, Dorothea stared at the ceiling, still wide awake despite how late it had gotten. A hand subconsciously twirled through a sleeping Petra’s long locks while she studied the carved, wooden pattern that decorating the ceiling. She had never considered herself a religious person. The grand Goddess all of Fódlan worshipped was something she could never believe in, not after the life she had spent alone, unwanted, and dying upon the harsh streets of Enbarr. But here in peaceful Brigid, where she had been welcomed despite the strange circumstances, she could perhaps allow herself to believe in some higher power, at least this once. She placed her hands together and recited a prayer in unsteady and poor Brigidan, a request for the Spirits to grant her a child. Perhaps they would choose to listen, just this once, unlike the unforgiving Goddess who ignored her pleas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was going to be a longer chapter and have several things in it but i decided to keep it short because. well. i havent updated in a while and i figured it would be a good place to leave it off.
> 
> sorry but i'm not a smut writer. use your imagination! 
> 
> hope you all are enjoying it thus far. once we get through the basics there will be more room for just domestic love.


	6. A New Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back on this fanfic

Day twenty-three of the Blue Sea Moon, Imperial Year 1186: the day that princess Petra Macneary of Brigid was to be coronated. 

Traditionally, coronations were to take place after the king or queen to be had already been married, but King Macneary had courteously allowed for a slight variation in the usual proceedings for the sake of his granddaughter: the only living Macneary blessed with the right to rule by the spirits that governed the archipelago. Though his uncertainty in the change yet still shown in the way that he would stare at Dorothea with doubtful eyes whenever the two were in the same room, much to the dismay of the young songstress. The king did not make it easy for Dorothea to decipher his thoughts simply by reading his expression, a skill she had picked up from her numerous years spent with men of dubious intentions. She could not tell if what he felt for her was scorn for stealing away his only heiress like a sinful witch, enchanting her away from her sworn duties.

As the days hurried towards the evening of Petra’s coronation, Dorothea could not help but worry. The upcoming deadline she had been granted haunted her still, looming in the distance as a painful reminder that all she had come to love could simply be tossed away. By now, the former opera singer had become an expert at casting the ancient magic Linhardt had uncovered. It was now second nature to her, as almost every night she would once again attempt the impossible, her hopeful wife-to-be assisting her. Unfortunately, it was impossible to tell whether or not their attempts had borne any fruit, not immediately. It had been two moons since the first attempt, and there was yet to be any signs of pregnancy. Dorothea’s menstrual cycle had continued as normal, much to the dismay of both young women. 

With both the coronation and the deadline coming up, Dorothea’s worries had changed into downright nausea. Though there was little risk involved in the coronation ceremony, the mage fretted over what the locals were saying, wondering if ill rumors had begun to float around regarding Petra’s lack of marriage. Evading public eye was near impossible, even when Petra so tried to hide their more romantic pursuits outside of spectators’ vision. As it turned out, plenty of locals in Brigid liked to dig their noses in gossip, especially when the royal family was involved. Given how much time the two of them would spend together, and the fact that this was the first coronation in centuries where the leader-to-be was not married, it was not hard to put two and two together.

Her anxieties clearly did not wish to relent, as Dorothea had woken up upon the morning of the coronation feeling horribly, horribly ill. Covering her mouth, she attempted to swallow the remains of last night’s dinner to no avail, forcing her to leap from her bed and hurry towards the bathroom at top speeds. She paid no attention to the sheets she had thrown astray all over the room in the process, nor to the other woman who had been awoken quite suddenly by the commotion, hazy confusion within her still sleepy brown eyes. Both Dorothea’s anxieties and dinner spilled over, and all the while, her head was spinning with a cocktail of fear and illness. 

It did not take long for her lover to join her side, lips quirked into a frown while a comforting hand stroked Dorothea’s back. “Dorothea… are you all right?” Petra asked softly, voice barely more than a whisper. Though she was still rather sleepy, her concerns for her partner outweighed any desire to remain locked in slumber.

“I’m fine, Petra,” muttered Dorothea, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I guess I caught a little something, that’s all.”

Concern etched itself within Petra’s expression as she tilted her head to the side, eyes alight with sorrow. “Is it possible that you have caught illness?” she suggested. “If that is the truth, then maybe you should be resting instead of coming to the coronation. I am not wanting you to be—”

“—Absolutely not, Petra,” the songstress argued back sternly, not even allowing her lover to finish her sentence. She forced herself back upright despite the swirling feeling of illness overtaking her and gave the other woman a firm look. “It’s your coronation day, love. I don’t care what it is, I wouldn’t allow anything to get in the way of me seeing you become queen.”

Despite the clear doubt that reflected within Petra’s expression, she nodded reluctantly. She too knew how very desperately her wife-to-be wished to see her, all garbed up in traditional Brigid attire as the sun basked down upon her. It was a sight that she would not trade for the entire world, her nauseous stomach be damned. 

“If that is what you are wanting, love. But I am having worry,” Petra said with a small sigh. “I would not be wanting you to have illness while you are watching. That would… not be good.”

The thought of her spilling out the contents of her stomach within a massive sea of Brigid natives was enough to force her confidence to waver, but only for the most fleeting of seconds. As a former general in the Imperial army, she had overcome plenty of battles, and losing to her stomach was certainly not the way she intended to spend this glorious day. If only Manuela were here to mix up one of her best stomach medicines… Living in Brigid had its ups and downs, and not being within close proximity to her only friends was one of the worst parts. Still, any homesickness she still bore would always quickly vanish at the sight of her lover’s smiling face, basking in the glory of her homeland. Petra had always been radiant, even in Fódlan, but she truly shone underneath the Brigid sun she had missed for over a decade.

“I’ll be fine, my love,” Dorothea reassured the other woman, sealing her statement with a quick peck on the cheek, just beneath the magenta tattoo under Petra’s eye. Fingers danced across the soft skin that lay there, gently, lovingly. “Trust me. And… I can’t wait to see you after it’s all over. Once the feast is out of the way, why don’t we come back here and celebrate in our own way, hm?”

“I am liking the sound of that greatly,” agreed Petra with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

* * *

The two did not get to spend much more time together that morning, for Petra was soon hustled off by various Brigid maids to take care of her hair, make-up, and clothing for the event, leaving Dorothea all alone in their room. Since she was feeling rather ill, she chose to skip out on breakfast and simply take to preparing herself for the event to come. Perhaps it would save some more room in her stomach for the grand feast that would follow the coronation, anyways. Though she knew hardly anyone would be looking at her when the soon to be queen was on stage, she still figured she ought to look her best for her lover. She chose one of her favorite old opera gowns from Fódlan, bright red and studded with glittering stones upon the hems. Though it was hardly her best dress, she certainly didn’t want to try to upstage the main event.

It was late in the afternoon when the coronation finally began. The ceremony was to take place upon a tiny island just barely off the coast of one of Brigid’s largest beaches. Upon that island sat a pure white stone, the ancient tales of the archipelago’s founding carved within. The tiny island was off limits to all except the Brigid royal family, and so the audience instead had to crowd the beach and cliffs overlooking the shore just to get a glimpse of the queen to be. Dorothea was no exception to the rule even though she was indeed the princess’s still secret lover, though Petra had allocated space for her specifically right on the coastline so that she had the best view possible. 

And so, Dorothea stood anxiously upon the shore, awaiting the arrival of her sweet love. The gentle waves lapped at the sand, tickling the tips of the former opera singer’s shoes. The nausea within the pit of her stomach had previously begun to settle, though the overwhelming scent of sea salt caused an unpleasant but brief resurgence. Thankfully, she was able to keep it all within her and avoid a rather humiliating scene. Still, it certainly was taking a bit of time for Petra to make her grand appearance. 

The sun had begun to set, melting the sky into a gradient of blue and orange. Just when the glimmers of the coming evening had begun to reach the water, Dorothea spied a decorated boat rowing towards the small island, evoking cheers from excited citizens. Upon it were a few royal servants, the current king, and Petra herself, dressed in the most breathtaking gowns Dorothea had ever laid eyes upon. When the boat nicked the sand and Petra stood, she could not help but gasp. 

The dress that Petra adorned was made of a rare kind of silk only produced by a worm native to only Brigid, living deep within the forests and only harvested by the most experienced of craftsmen. It was dyed an extravagant purple that glistened within the setting sun, eliciting marveled gasps from the audience. The dress was only further enhanced by the few gems that sparkled upon it, which Dorothea recognized as jewels from the sea itself. Naturally, her earrings and jewelry were made from the same kind of stones, clear yet reflective of the ocean’s blue waves. 

She could not tear her eyes away from her lover. She was completely and utterly in awe of the beauty before her, so much so that the nausea that had been threatening her all day had been forgotten about. 

The king exited the boat alongside his granddaughter, but the servants remained, for they were not allowed to set foot upon the sacred island. He led the queen-to-be to her position in front of the white rock, where she kneeled upon one knee. From the sheath clipped to his belt, the old man withdrew a shimmering sword. The hilt had been carved with the shape of various Brigid wildlife, including wolves and a rare bird with colorful feathers. Then, he began to speak.

Unfortunately, Dorothea could only understand bits and pieces of what he was saying. Petra had offered to fill her in on full translation before the ceremony, but Dorothea had refused, insisting that it would be more appropriate if she were to tell her afterwards. For now, she simply took in what little she could understand.

The king was speaking of the founding of Brigid, a tale the songstress knew a bit about from Petra’s enthusiastic descriptions. It was said that a group of sailors who had become lost at sea due to a storm and upon the brink of starvation happened upon a group of sea spirits, who guided them towards the archipelago. Those who survived the journey were met with the island’s riches, including edible fruit and clean water. The captain of the ship, Petra’s direct ancestor, was awarded by the spirits. He received their power, their blessing, and the right to rule the island. Such a right was passed down through the blood of the Macnearys, and thus, only those with the blessed blood could become king or queen.

Petra’s father died in war before he could wear the crown, leaving behind only the sole girl with the right to become queen. This was a moment she had been destined for, had waited for, had  _ longed  _ for… and Dorothea was there to witness it all.

Both the king and Petra clasped their hands together, offering a prayer to the spirits. Petra was reciting a scripture of ancient Brigid text, a plea to the spirits, offering herself up to the sky, to the sea, to the land, to all the riches that Brigid had to offer. She looked so incredibly graceful, and though the ceremony was meant to be solemn, she could not hide the faintest of smiles upon her curved lips. The audience was dead silent as they listened, hands mimicking their princess’s movements as they too prayed to the spirits. 

Dorothea had never been a religious woman. She had been abandoned by the Goddess when she was a young child, left to fend for herself on the rough streets of Enbarr. She had lost all respect for the holy being, for how could she worship someone who had allowed her to suffer the way she did? When the truth of what exactly reigned the Church of Fódlan had been uncovered, and the Immaculate One spread her wings, it had only set in stone her distaste for the Goddess. They had only ever cared for those who followed the doctrine of the church, who followed them like good little sheep without a second thought. Those with crests were meant to rule, and those without were left to suffer. 

But it was different in Brigid. There were no such thing as crests, and though the royal family was treated with speciality because of their so called sacred blood, no one was ever discriminated against based on social status. When the hunters of Brigid took off each morning, they would do so as one big harmonious group. In the eyes of the spirits, all were equal, so long as they respected the forces of nature and gave thanks to the prey they fell. 

Perhaps that was something Dorothea could believe in.

She placed her hands firmly together, offering up a small, silent prayer. She thanked the spirits for bringing Petra her way, for allowing her to meet such a wonderful woman. She could only hope they would be merciful enough to grant her a fulfilling life by her side.

Once the prayers were finished, the king placed his sword upon his granddaughter’s shoulder. What followed afterwards was a series of questions, asking if she understood what it meant to be queen, if she agreed to follow the spirits, if she would respect the land and lead her people to greatness. Each question was answered by a simple “yes” with no hesitation. Petra had studied for a great while for this moment, and she knew all her duties by heart. Finally, the king asked her one last question:

“ _ Do you, Petra Macneary, accept the crown and accept all the lives in Brigid as your own responsibility?” _

And, of course, Petra answered:

_ “Yes.” _

“ _ Then, it is my great honor to offer you my crown, my beloved granddaughter.”  _ The old man slipped the golden crown from his head, the gems upon it shimmering with the setting sun’s rays. Slowly, carefully, he placed it atop Petra’s head, and spoke once more: “ _ With this, you are now queen…!” _

The audience erupted into an uproarious cheer, and Dorothea’s smile grew into a radiant grin. Salty tears welled up within her eyes as Petra turned towards the audience, so beautiful, so incredible, so  _ perfect… _ And she was all hers.

The ocean’s breeze carried with it the joy of all the citizens for their new queen and hope for a brand new future, and all the while, Dorothea could not stop thinking about how wonderful their future was to be together.

* * *

All of Brigid was in bright spirits as they celebrated their new queen. The vast shores were lined with enormous tables bearing all sorts of traditional Brigid food, from fish and meats to extravagant fruits that grew only upon its fertile land. Children and adults alike scattered throughout the beach, and all the while, Dorothea was watching with a pleasant smile. She swirled the goblet of fruit juice within her hand, backed up against a cliffside made of black stone. Though she had hoped her appetite would reignite by the time the ceremony had ended, she found it not to be so.

In fact, the various foods were only igniting her sour stomach. The rare sorts of fish smelled so very… well,  _ fishy _ . It was unbearably disgusting, and Dorothea was doing all she could not to hurl. She wrinkled her nose a bit in disgust as a child hurried by holding a very generous helping of fish egg, her uncooperative body  _ despising _ the very scent.

If only she could sneak out unnoticed. But how could she when this party was in honor of her lover? 

Speaking of Petra, she was most likely busy conversing with some Brigid nobles, for she had not yet made her appearance on this particular portion of the beach. She could only pray that her love would show up soon to whisk her away from all this rowdiness. 

Thankfully, it did not take too much longer for the new queen to make her appearance. It was easy to tell that she had arrived, for the citizens quickly began to gasp and point at her, murmuring things in Brigidan which were too quick for Dorothea to translate. When the woman turned to look at the new queen, her heart began to thrum once again. She was even more beautiful up close, if that was even possible. Petra was simply beaming in pure bliss, looking happier than Dorothea had ever seen her. She greeted all of the citizens warmly, but when she locked eyes with her lover, she quickly beelined straight for her.

“Dorothea!” she cried out as she swung her arms around her beloved, practically crashing both of them into the rugged cliffside. The former opera singer stumbled and nearly fell to the sandy beach beneath, but her lover’s firm arms held caught her before she could even begin to descend. 

“Petra!” exclaimed Dorothea, elated. Her arms wrapped snugly around Petra’s hips as she returned the embrace wholeheartedly. “Oh Petra, that was incredible! You look so beautiful!”

The queen pulled backwards so that their vision could meet, though her hands still lay upon the other woman’s back. “You have my thanks!” she spoke warmly. 

Oh, Petra was just so incredibly  _ gorgeous  _ in her queenly gowns, glowing within the now nearly set sun. She looked like a goddess that demanded worship, and how Dorothea wished she could crash their lips together in a passionate kiss. But peering eyes were watching them closely, and though there were plenty of rumors, the two certainly weren’t ready to reveal the nature of their relationship to everyone. Even now as they stood there, arms intertwined around each others bodies, various citizens were muttering gossip to one another.

“I have been looking for you for a while,” Petra informed the other woman. “I was thinking that you would be joining in on the dancing. I was not expecting to be finding you here.”

Ah, yes. The dancing. It sounded lovely, but… “Yes, well, as much as I’d love to dance with you, it seems my body has  _ other _ opinions…”

Petra cocked her head to the side as her lips curved into a frown. “You are still not feeling well? Have you eaten at all?”

Dorothea shook her head. “Really, as much as I adore all the food here, it’s a bit much on me right now. I just… I don’t know. It all smells so incredibly strong.”

The queen removed a hand from Dorothea’s back and instead placed it upon her forehead, a puzzled expression forming on her face. “You are not feeling sick…” she commented. “I do not think you are having illness, but… you are feeling nauseous?”

“Yes, I… yes.”

Petra gave a brief glance to the crowd that was forming around them, prying eyes eager to see exactly what the new queen was getting up to with her “very close friend.” Sensing that they were attracting maybe a bit too much attention, she leaned in close to Dorothea’s ear, speaking in a hushed whisper in case any nosy citizens happened to speak Fódlanese. “Would you like to be going back to our room now?”

“But Petra, it’s your celebration. I mean, don’t you want to stay?”

“I have already had enough celebrating for one day, besides…” Petra’s tone dropped ever lower as she cupped a hand around her mouth. “Even more than that, I am wanting to be spending time alone with you.”

A shiver went up Dorothea’s spine, and she nodded. “If you’re certain then, yes… I’d rather be alone with you.”

Petra pulled backwards and nodded. She turned towards the crowd and told them something in Brigaeli about wanting to take her ill friend to the infirmary. It was barely much of an excuse, but it seemed to work well enough, for soon the queen was tugging the songstress away towards the grand castle not far from the beach.

* * *

It didn’t take long for the two women to return to their room. As soon as they had entered, Dorothea hastily made for the bed, where she flopped over upon her back and let out a relieved sigh. Her muscles were aching from standing for so very long, and her stomach was still protesting. Petra, concerned, slipped next to her upon the sheets, fingers combing through chocolate brown locks of hair. 

“My love, what is wrong?” Petra asked, worry lacing her tone. “You are not being… upset with me, are you?”

Dorothea looked alarmed. “No, no, Petra! I could never! Why would you think I was upset with you?”

“Well… we are not able to be showing our love for each other in public… and even though we are being close like this, we are not yet allowed to be marrying. By now, most rulers of Brigid are married, but my Grandfather was not allowing us. I had worry that you were maybe feeling sadness over this.”

All that was rather disappointing, of course. Dorothea could not help but feel things would be extraordinarily different if she were a man, and the only reason the two of them had to go through all this trouble was because they were both women. The two could be happily married by now, sharing a kiss by the ocean as onlookers cheered their union. But alas, some ancient traditions forbade it, and so she had to stow away all her feelings until the two were alone. 

“Of course I wish it were different. But it can’t be. It’s unfair, all this. It would never happen to a man and a woman. Really, though, right now it’s just about my nausea. I just can’t take all those smells, and… well, I’m just exhausted.”

Petra gave Dorothea an inquisitive gaze, fingers still absentmindedly playing with her lover’s hair. A deep, unsteady breath passed through her lips as she locked gazes with the other woman, her eyes lighting up with some sort of emotion the songstress couldn’t pin down. Worry or perhaps… excitement?

“How long have you been having this nausea for?”

“Well, it’s been here and there for a few days, but… today’s been the absolute worst,” Dorothea answered.

Petra’s lips parted with a small breath, fingers trailing down Dorothea’s exposed shoulder. “Dorothea…” she breathed. “You were saying last month that you were having your period. But not this month. Is… is it having possibility that... “

Dawning realization overtook Dorothea as her eyes opened wide. Indeed, sensitivity to smell and nausea were signs of pregnancy, coupled with the fact that her cycle for this month had yet to come. An unparalleled joy began to swell up within her heart as her mind raced with all the possibilities, but narrowing down on one distinct answer. 

“...Now wait just a minute, Petra, we can’t know that for sure,”’ Dorothea insisted, not wanting to get ahead of herself. If she allowed herself to get too hopeful about all the signs, then she would feel heartbroken if it amounted to nothing. “I mean, really, I could just be sick, but…”

Petra shook her head immediately, clearly not sharing the same sentiments. “I am not thinking so. I am thinking that you are pregnant!” she declared. Her expression immediately shifted, her eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated joy as her smile grew wider. Just mere moments ago, Dorothea had thought she had seen Petra had her happiest, but this… this overshadowed it completely. She looked about ready to burst with sheer elation, and… were those the beginnings of tears in her eyes? “Oh, Dorothea! You are pregnant! I am having certainty of this!”

Pregnant… was it really possible? The spell had really worked? Shakily, she pressed a hand to her stomach, wondering if there was life within. Petra’s own hand ghosted over it before settling atop it, giving her lover a glistening, reassuring smile. “I… I don’t want it to be false hope, Petra. My heart… it wouldn’t be able to take it.” Yet, at the same time, all the signs were pointing towards it being positive. “There’s really no way to know for sure yet, we just have to give it a few more weeks… see if my period shows up.”

“If you are wanting to wait, then that is being fine,” Petra told her. “But I am knowing that you are pregnant. I will be proving it to you soon.” There was not a shred of doubt to be seen within the woman’s eyes, and she spoke with full confidence. Though Dorothea wished to remain cautious, who was she to damper her queen’s joy on her coronation day? 

An idea sparked within Dorothea’s mind, and a mischievous smirk snuck its way upon her face. She tugged lightly at Petra’s gown, eyes gleaming. “Well… if you insist. But… I think we should keep trying. Just in case, you know?” she suggested, making her intentions rather clear. There was no need to play coy with her lover. “Besides, it would be a waste if we just came back to our room early without enjoying our alone time to the fullest.

Petra picked up on her girlfriend’s desires immediately. She was always the top student back when the two were still at the Officer’s Academy, and that definitely didn’t make her a fool. The sharp woman echoed the other woman’s intentions by skimming a hand over the hem of Dorothea’s studded dress, fingers diving to touch her bare thigh. Despite all the excitement over her coronation and the possibility of having a child on the way, she was certainly not out of the mood for a bit of fun. 

“I am thinking the same,” Petra practically purred in Dorothea’s ear. “Even if I am knowing you are pregnant, I am still wanting to try some more…”

“Mm. Sounds good to me…” agreed Dorothea, allowing her lover and queen to slip on top of her, the roaring sounds of the festivities outside seemingly vanishing within the haze of heavy love. 

Let them party how they’d like. Petra and Dorothea had their own ways of celebrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so ill be straight (haha as if) with you... im the type of person who wears the same sweater and jeans every day. i dont know SHIT about fashion (nor do i care about it) so whenever i talk about clothing in this fanfic i apologize if im not descriptive because the thing is i have NO idea what im doing. 
> 
> (on that note, ive never been pregnant of course so im doing my best with what little i know to write about it but i dont wanna go too in depth because that shit is SCARY)
> 
> anyways, i hit a bit of a wall with the vampire fanfic and while im working on the next chapter, im not really in the mood to be writing a huge 10k+ chapter and these chapters are much shorter and easier. i havent updated in forever because ive had to go to work SO often and ive been filling in multiple days so like. big money but little free time.
> 
> im surprised i wrote this since swsh came out today and im enjoyign it a lot. i wanna write a fire emblem pokemon au soon!
> 
> anyways thank you for reading, leave a kudo and a comment if you like and so on and so on.


	7. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> briefly back from my hiatus. this chapter is tiny so i can get back into the swing of things.

The mysterious ailment that continued to afflict Dorothea seemed bent on keeping her within its chains, leaving her with little else to do but remain covered within a sea of fur sheets atop her shared bed. As days passed and time showed to be of little help, the former opera’s singers suspicions about her condition grew closer and closer to the conclusion that Petra had drawn almost immediately. Two weeks had flown by and there was no sign of her period, a clear clue that played into the exciting yet nerve-wracking conclusion: she was likely pregnant with the future king or queen of Brigid.

Despite all the telltale signs surfacing, the songstress did not wish to let her hopes glimmer, only to be extinguished in ash if it turned out to be a falsehood. Besides, her very future was riding on this. With the six moon deadline looming ever closer, she needed a decisive answer, and proof that she and Petra had managed the impossible. The queen’s stubborn grandfather, despite no longer wearing the crown upon his head, still had the power to deny his granddaughter her happiness if he deemed it necessary for the future of Brigid. Thus, it became obvious what the next step in their plan was: to confirm their suspicions.

Petra had called in a trusted physician, a friend of her grandfather’s and a man who had treated the Brigid royal family for decades. Given how much the former king trusted the old doctor, his word would prove definite. As Dorothea lay upon her bed, Petra gazed on with an eager yet worried expression as the physician prepared the exam. The two were seated on wooden stools at Dorothea’s side, though Petra opted for the one closest to her lover so that she may hold her hand. 

“Will it hurt?” Dorothea asked, a breath hitched within her throat. She had absolutely no idea what to expect, given she hadn’t researched the medical practice beforehand. “I mean, it’s just some white magic, right?”

Petra nodded. “He has given me reassurance that it will not be hurting, just tingling,” the queen confirmed. “It is a simple spell to be checking the balance of your body. It will be detecting whether or not there is a child within.”

A nervous flutter of Dorothea’s heart called her to gulp. She had fantasized plenty of times these last few moons about becoming a mother, but to hear those words aloud made her fret. Inside her was quite possibly the beginnings of a new life, a life that would be nurtured and raised by her and her loving girlfriend. Given how abruptly she had been pried from the arms of her mother, Dorothea wondered if she was capable of bringing a happy childhood to her potential child. The child would be royalty, surrounded by maids and servants who pledged their lives to serving the Brigid queen and her family. Certainly they would not have to ever worry about money or being thrown out about the streets, not like Dorothea had been. Even if she were to pass away abruptly, there would be many still willing to care for her, to make sure she grew up loved. 

Still… 

The physician spoke something in Brigaeli, and Petra glanced back towards Dorothea. 

“He is ready. Are you ready, Dorothea?”

Despite all the emotions piling up within, the songstress could only nod. Save all the worrying for later, what came first was making certain that she had a reason to be in the first place.

“All right. We will be beginning.”

Twinkles of white magic began to form between the fingertips of the physician, glimmering like lightly falling snowflakes upon the beginning of winter. He whispered a gentle prayer in his native language, thanking the spirits for giving him wisdom and granting him the power to utilize such magic. Dorothea felt a light shock as the physician placed his palm upon her arm, jolting sensations spreading throughout her body as though her very skin was alight with static. She could not help but fidget uncomfortably upon her sheets. Though it hardly hurt, only possessing the pain of a sewing needle pricked upon a finger, it felt oddly ticklish in an invasive sort of way.

“How long does this last for, exactly?” asked Dorothea, hardly enjoying the process. “I can’t say I’ve studied for this part…”

“It will not be long,” Petra assured her. “That is what he has told me. I am not having certainty about how the magic works, but… I am thinking he is checking the balance of your body.”

Dorothea nodded unsteadily, trying to ignore her heart’s anxious pounding. Her fingers gripped Petra’s hand tightly, feeling worry bubbling within. Soothing fingers danced upon the back of her palm, a silent reassurance from her loving girlfriend that all would be well. She did her best to hide all the thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong and seal it within the deepest recesses of her mind. Prolonged seconds drifted forwards as Dorothea sought to indulge herself in the slightest hint of warmth upon her lover’s palm, their shared touch enough to ease her. 

The physician withdrew his hand, his wrinkled features creasing into a contemplative look. Seeking further confirmation, he slid his still magically enchanted hand upon the fabric resting on Dorothea’s flat stomach. The songstress winced at the touch, though the tingling sensation was far mitigated by the layer of cloth. A curious glint shone within his elderly eyes as he muttered something to himself in Brigaeli, the shock in his tone evident. 

Petra’s entire body went rigid in anticipation, her eyes growing wider. “ _ You are certain? _ ”

“ _ Yes _ ,” confirmed the elderly physician. 

A breath Dorothea hadn’t even realized she had been holding in finally left her lungs, and she felt her body shake. “What is it, Petra? What did he say?”

Petra glanced back towards her lover, brown eyes shimmering with the onset of joyous tears. “He is saying that you are pregnant. The spell has worked.”

A whirlwind of emotions overtook Dorothea all at once. Surprise, delight, worry, but most of all,  _ relief _ . Relief that the spell had worked, relief that she was now to be free of the time constraints Petra’s strict grandfather had put in place. Before she could even speak, Petra had flung herself off of the wooden stool and right atop Dorothea, assaulting her lover’s cheeks in a barrage of kisses. Tears of pure, unadulterated joy trickled from the queen’s eyes, tainting her kisses with hints of salt. Though Dorothea wished to remain conscious of the fact that they were still very much in view of the physician's eyes, she could not help herself from pulling her love to her, arms twining around her hips. 

“Oh, my beloved! I am filled with such joy!” proclaimed Petra when she had finally managed to pry her lips away from Dorothea. “We will be having a child!  _ Our _ very own child! For a bit, I had been losing hope that such a thing was even being possible, but…!”

Seeing how overjoyed her beautiful love was forced Dorothea to laugh in glee, her heart overflowing with adoration. She pressed her nose to Petra’s, nuzzling her tenderly. “We did the impossible, didn’t we? I suppose that’s just like us. Never giving into what the others think of us, or their expectations.” She certainly hoped that this would prove to be a joyous occasion for Petra’s grandfather, rather than an irritant that his granddaughter had managed to skate around finding a Brigid husband. 

“Yes!” agreed Petra wholeheartedly. “We will always be doing the impossible. Our love is knowing no bounds!”

Dorothea shivered at her girlfriend’s sweet words. Unable to formulate a proper response to such proclamations, she opted to dive in for a tender yet passionate kiss, lips pressing firmly together as the songstress enveloped herself in seemingly everlasting happiness. A child… she was really going to have a child! Sure, it was out of wedlock and they were certainly doing everything in the wrong order, but circumstances had called for it. Besides, she would not change this incredible feeling of elation for the entire world. 

As they parted, Dorothea wished desperately to pull her queen in for a round two. However, the physician was still sitting rather awkwardly at their side, clearly waiting to get a word or two in. She gently tapped her lover’s bare shoulder to remind her that they were still not alone, and that they could not yet celebrate.

Petra cleared her throat, cheeks tinted pink. She had not been allowed to be so openly affectionate with her girlfriend in front of anyone else prior, as much as she wished for it. “ _ Tell my Grandfather at once, please, _ ” she requested. “ _ And tell him I will speak with him soon. _ ”

The physician nodded and stood before slipping out of the room, wishing to give his queen some private time. Hurried footsteps could be heard echoing from the hallway as he sought to fulfill his orders. Soon enough, the former king of Brigid would know that his granddaughter’s plans had been a success, and that he had a heir on the way: a heir of proper, royal Brigid blood. 

“Petra, I…” stammered Dorothea, still a bit overwhelmed with nearly a dozen emotions. “I can’t believe that I’m… I’m actually…” She shakily slithered her hand downwards, allowing it to tenderly rest upon her stomach. Within rested the spark of a new life, barely any more than a mere whisper. “And it’s  _ yours _ . Oh Goddess, I wonder if our child will look a lot like you?” Maybe the child would possess her girlfriend’s fuchsia colored hair, or perhaps her light brown eyes that contained just a hint of magenta. Would they have a talent for magic like Dorothea, or perhaps would they turn out to be a swift hunter like their other mother? There were just so many possibilities. 

But goodness, did she have a long road to get there. She was likely already a month and a half or two months along, and more than a half a year sat in her way. Anything could happen between now and then. Perhaps something could go horribly wrong, a result of the uncertain nature of the spell, and she would end up on a boat home to Fódlan. She could not help the anxiety that crept within her joyous heart, filling her stomach with a bout of nausea. 

Her worries did not go undetected by the perceptive Petra, who immediately frowned. Tender fingers lovingly stroked the songstress’s cheek, a gentle reassurance that all would be well. “I am knowing you have worries still,” the queen spoke. She did not force her love to bring a voice to her thoughts, for she knew that it would only drive her deeper into a pit of nightmares. “But I will be by your side. I will not be letting anything bad happen, no matter what. Do you have understanding?”

Something about the confident tone, the courageous glint within her eyes caused Dorothea’s beating heart to settle. Though most of the matters of her pregnancy would be completely out of their control and all in the hands of her body, the mage knew Petra would protect her from anyone who wished to send her away from the arms of her love, anyone who would dare challenge their love. Dorothea could go on and on for ages about all the possible things that could go wrong, but for now, she allowed her lover to quell such worries. 

“Yes, of course, Petra,” Dorothea whispered. “My beautiful Petra. My queen.”

“Your future wife,” Petra added on with a smile. “When our child is born and my grandfather is declaring them a prince or princess, I will be marrying you. I am not caring what anyone will think of us. Soon, they will be knowing of our love.”

The stigma that surrounded same-sex relationships seemed less prominent in Brigid, where crests did not exist. No one had to worry themselves over producing heirs with a crest, and couples of the same gender often adopted orphans to raise lovingly. Though there was plenty of gossip that still surrounded the queen and her lover, Dorothea never noticed any of the curious gazes to be anything more than slight skepticism. No one had looked upon her with malice in their eyes, no one had bothered assaulting her with hostile insults and threats. Long ago, she had thought it impossible for her to marry a woman, but now… 

“I’ll start planning right away!” Dorothea decided. “You’ll have to tell me about all the traditions so I can get everything just right! We’ll make it the grandest wedding this country has ever had!” As a lover of all tales romantic, the songstress could hardly settle for anything less, especially when her childhood was so often spent fantasizing about her fairytale wedding. “You’ll have to show me what kind of wedding dresses there are so I can pick just the right one!”

Petra looked simply overjoyed. Back when they were mere students in the academy, she rarely had a chance to share her culture. She often had to stay silent and assimilate into the traditions of Fódlan, so that she could be an obedient hostage. To be able to share her culture with someone she loved so deeply was filling her heart to the brim. Her eyes gleamed with still fresh tears as she looked upon her love. 

“I would be liking that greatly!” she gushed. “Oh Dorothea, we will be having the best lives together…!”

Dorothea grinned. With the beginnings of a new life within her and the glimmer of a brand new future upon the horizon, she felt as though all was right in the world… And it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, i've been taking a break since i wrote basically nonstop for four months and the toll was weighing VERY heavily on me. im not ready to continue writing a massive 10,000 word chapter right now, so here's a brief chapter for this fanfic! i promise i have not abandoned the vampire AU and will get back to working on it as soon as i feel ready to do so. i hit a bit of a rough patch where it was going and am still working out how i will proceed. there should only be one or two chapters left of that.
> 
> but yeah. magical pregnancies are fun, and this is just a happy lesbian fantasy fanfic so don't worry about the logistics of it all too much. i want my beautiful girls to be happy and they deserve to have a child.
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! leave a comment or kudo if you do. 
> 
> also, stan doropetra.


	8. Child of Brigid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the doropetra tag is going through some serious drought, so I wrote out this chapter real quick.
> 
> thank you to Glaceon22 for being a great beta as always !!!

Soft hums of an old lullaby filled the Brigid castle hallways, easing weary servants and royals that passed by the queen’s bedroom. Within, Dorothea sat upon a comfortable rocking chair, tangled within the furs of Petra’s homemade blankets. Her eyes remained closed as a hand stroked her growing stomach. It had been over three moons since the discovery of her pregnancy, and the songstress liked to think that the worst of it was through. Her body and condition brought about new challenges every day,  _ especially _ when she still could not get used to the horrid scent of the traditional Brigaeli red squid that was the central dish of almost every dinner. Fish had never been her favorite, but she  _ had _ started to get used to the ever-present stench of seafood. Now, with her pregnancy, it was as though she was back at square one.

Still, Petra was always considerate enough not to offer her meals that would upset her sensitive stomach. Her soon-to-be wife was extremely diligent in her new duties as an expectant parent, and was almost always preparing herself for her impending child. Perhaps she was far  _ too  _ excited, as she had gone out of her way to make a plentiful amount of blankets, more so than her future son or daughter could have ever possibly needed. It was at the point where Dorothea hardly had any idea what to do with the excess amount of blankets that stocked their shared closet to the brim. 

After giving her girlfriend a talking to about how she had gone a bit too overboard, Petra had shifted her focus. She sat on her bed across from Dorothea, eyes narrowed in extreme focus as she stitched two pieces of fabric together with a tiny needle. After exchanging several letters with Bernadetta, Petra had taken to the art of sewing, and was now determined to create an army of stuffed animals. So far, her endeavors had not been rewarded, for the most she had been able to craft was a miniature pillow. However, her failures had not at all swayed her. Whenever she had a moment of free time away from her royal obligations, Petra could be found with a needle and thread in hand and a guidebook in another. It seemed like absolutely nothing could deter her from her goals, not even the ill rumors that had spread throughout the castle.

Dorothea’s pregnancy was growing ever more impossible to hide. While most in the castle still were not informed about her relationship with the queen, those who did know took it upon themselves to question whether or not the spell they had used was an actuality. There were plenty who were convinced that it had been made up, that the child Dorothea was growing was a result of an affair with a man, and that she had covered it up with the excuse of magic. Petra’s own grandfather still bore his doubts, and his inquisitive gaze upon her form always left the songstress feeling anxious. 

“I do not think my grandfather believes them,” Petra had assured her one night, while Dorothea stained her pillow with tears. “My grandfather is a kind man, and he is wanting only the best for us.”

The songstress’s hums halted as she felt a wave of nauseous anxiety spread through her. She swallowed hard, hoping to keep her stomach at bay. Only four more moons, and then her child would be in her arms. With luck, there would surely be no doubt that it was Petra’s child, and the former king of Brigid would declare it the legitimate prince or princess. Perhaps then the horrible feeling of self-doubt would vanish. 

To distract herself from her thoughts, Dorothea focused her attention on her lover, watching as her eyebrows twitched while her steady fingers narrowly avoided a mistake. An amused smile replaced the frown upon her face. She gracefully stood from her chair and wrapped the homemade blanket around her shoulders, joining her love upon the bed. Her neck craned over Petra’s shoulders to glance at her current project: fabric decorated with floral patterns, cut into very specifically shaped pieces.

“What are you working on, love?” Dorothea inquired, fingers lovingly playing with a lock of burgundy hair hanging behind her shoulder. 

Petra briefly halted her work to meet her beloved’s gaze, smiling brilliantly when their eyes met. Pure, unadulterated  _ love _ shone through her light brown eyes. “It is a stuffed bear,” she explained. “Bernie cut the fabric and sent it to me. Now, I am to be doing the stitching and stuffing.” 

So, that explained the identity of the mystery, thin package that had arrived from this week’s shipping boat. “That’s sweet of her,” commented Dorothea, remembering the timid woman who had spent most of her time holed up in her room. After joining the Black Eagles Strike Force, she had slowly come out of her shell, and was now working beside Edelgard in Adrestia. Though she was still plenty anxious, it seemed she now enjoyed conversing with the friends she had made within the fires of war. Petra and her regularly exchanged letters and packages, some of which were carefully potted carnivorous plants that had to be delivered expertly with the help of Brigid botanists. Dorothea and her exchanged letters on occasion, but the songstress had found herself unable to write to her former allies as much as she hoped.

“I am not yet ready to be cutting my own patterns, so Bernie and I made this compromise,” Petra elaborated further. By now, she had returned her focus to the soon-to-be bear. “After I have mastered the stuffing and sewing, Bernie will be sending me fabric with outlines so I can cut them myself. Then, I will be making my own patterns. I am determined to master the art of sewing!” 

Another skill to already add to her lengthy repertoire, Dorothea thought to herself as her eyes glittered with admiration. “What a wonderful idea, Petra. I’m sure our child—and any future children we might have—will love the stuffed animals you make for them.” 

Petra beamed with pride at the compliment. “You are having my thanks! I will be making as many stuffed animals for our children as I am able. I want to be giving them the happiest life!”

Then, all of a sudden, Petra paused. Her radiant smile sunk, and a look of sorrow passed through her eyes. “When I was small, my father taught me how to hunt and fish. He would always be taking me on his hunting trips. When the hunting was done, he let me help skin the animal and tan the hide. Sometimes, we would be making charms from the bones of the animal, for good luck,” she reminisced, gaze focusing on nothing in particular. “When he passed, he left me little to remember him by. I had already lost many of the things he had made me, and I was not allowed to be taking anything with me when I was sent to Fódlan. I am always wishing that I took better care of the things that he made me.”

“Petra…” Dorothea whispered, placing a comforting hand upon her shoulder. It was rare that Petra spoke about her parents, for she found the memories still too painful. It had been over a decade since the former prince of Brigid fell at the hands of the empire, but it was clear that a part of her still hadn’t let it go. Sometimes, Dorothea was even caught in a rare moment of weakness, where she found herself missing the comfort of her long-deceased mother, now more so that she was expecting a child. “I understand. I… I don’t have anything from my mother left, not a trace. When she died beside me in that alleyway, I… I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared. When I told the city guards, they just told me they’d take care of it. I fell asleep right beside her body, and when I next woke… she was gone.” The anguish she had thought she had long ago rid herself of came flooding back to her as she spoke, choking her words up. “I don’t know what happened to her. Maybe they burnt her, threw her ashes away. Maybe they buried her in one of those mass graves, to be forgotten about like all the other nameless corpses they found upon the streets. I know I’m not a religious person, but… I’ve never really known how to pay my respects when there’s nothing to pay my respects to. Nothing remains of her except my memories, and, well… whoever else out there that may remember her.” Her father probably didn’t want to, wherever he was. “I also wish I had something. Anything. Maybe an earring, a ring… doesn’t matter. Something to help me never forget who she was, and that she once lived.”

Petra listened intently to her lover, never once interrupting her. Her gentle eyes once again settled upon her girlfriend as she spoke, and when Dorothea had finished, the queen gently, lovingly ran the back of her fingers against her cheek, wiping away stray tears that had escaped the former opera singer’s notice. “Then… you are understanding why I am doing this,” the huntress replied. “I am wanting to give our child… no, our children, many gifts, so that they are always having a part of us with them. I am hoping that we will not be leaving them behind any time soon, but the world can be having cruelty. I am wanting them to know that they will always be loved.” She hung her head. “I have understanding that I may have gone too far with the blankets, but now you are knowing why.”

“It’s all right, my dearest. I know,” Dorothea told her softly. “I feel the same way. I want to make sure our child never feels alone. I… I don’t want them to ever go through anything remotely similar to what I did. So, it’s perfectly fine to shower them with gifts! Just.. maybe too much of the same thing isn’t necessary.”

“I am in agreement. That is why I have decided to be making stuffed animals!” the queen told her, puffing her chest out with pride. “Each one will be different. Bernie suggested starting with a bear, but when I have gained understanding, I will be making many different kinds of animals.”

Dorothea giggled at her lover’s enthusiasm, feeling healed by her excitement. Though speaking of old memories had dragged back plenty of unpleasant feelings, it seemed there was nothing that Petra couldn’t cheer her up from. “Oh yeah? What sort of animals, then?” Dorothea questioned. 

“I am thinking… an eagle, because of the Black Eagle Strike Force. After that, I am thinking... a squid. Definitely a squid,” Petra decided confidently. 

“A squid?” the songstress repeated. “You do love squid, don’t you?”

“Of course! Squid is very important to Brigid. I can be making all kinds of squid. Brigaeli red squid, deep sea squid, Macneary squid…” listed the queen.

“There’s a squid named after your family!?” exclaimed Dorothea. “You never told me that!”

Petra giggled. “It is a rare squid, but it is having a purple color, like my hair. They are sacred to Brigid, and are never eaten. They are seen as the kings and queens of the sea because of their size.”

“Fitting to name them after the royal family, then,” Dorothea responded. “I’m sure our children will have no shortage of squid!”

“I will be making sure they are not!”

After sharing a few laughs, the two lovers settled down. Petra stowed away her sewing for the night and lay tucked underneath the homemade blanket, staring transfixed into her beloved’s sea green eyes. Her hand lay pressed against the growing swell in Dorothea’s stomach, lips whispering gentle, Brigaeli words. While the former opera singer could only understand a few of them, she still felt warmed by her love’s sweet voice speaking softly to their unborn little one. Her arms lay wrapped around Petra’s back as she closed her eyes, letting thoughts of a gentle future soothe her to sleep. 

Their child was going to be so lucky to have such loving parents. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will not stop with the squid.
> 
> thank you so much for all your lovely comments! i'm sorry I haven't respnded to them yet, i wll RIGHT now. as for my other fanfic, i'm on and off working on a few projects. hope everyone will like them.
> 
> if you want previews for my stuff and wanna participate in occasional polls i hold, remember to follow me [here on twitter!](https://twitter.com/brigidspride)
> 
> as always, leave a comment and kudo if you enjoyed!


	9. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from here on out, many chapters will be shorter. there will be a few "plot" chapters that progress fanfic, but a lot of domestic fluff in between. my idea when i wrote this fanfic was to solely focus on little fluffy moments in dorothea and petra's married life, but as you can see, it evolved quite a bit! 
> 
> this chapter is one of those simple fluffy chapters. even so, i hope you enjoy.

Dorothea watched as the Brigid ocean’s waves curled over the sandy beach, soft sea foam bubbling as the salty water retreated back into its home. The clear waves were painted an array of oranges and pinks from the setting sun, creating a gorgeous mural of colors. A contented sigh passed through her lips as she basked in the gentle sounds of the rolling ocean and the faint cries of sea birds flying towards the great golden sun. Her hands cradled her protruding stomach while she admired the beauty of her new home. Fódlan couldn’t even compare.

Soft hands massaged her tired shoulders in just the right place to earn a light hum. “Mmm… thank you, Petra. I needed that,” she remarked. 

“It is not a problem,” Petra assured her. “But I am having worry. Do you wish to sit?” Her brown eyes flickered downwards to the prominent lump upon her lover’s stomach. 

In the past moon, it seemed that Dorothea’s stomach and child had grown exceedingly fast, far more so than either of them had expected. The songstress had to abandon her usual attire of Adrestian ball gowns for looser, more comfortable Brigid dresses, made of furs and fabric dyed many shades of purple, green, and orange. It was though every few days Petra had to fetch Dorothea a brand new assortment of clothing to fit her swiftly growing belly. The dress she wore now was a bright purple, with silky fabric that hung off of her. The stress her pregnancy was putting on Dorothea’s body was immense, with aches and pains all over, but she was thankful that the nausea seemed to be far more sparse. 

“Probably,” Dorothea admitted. “My legs are killing me.” As much as she hated to voice her weakness, the soles of her feet were practically screaming for relief.

Petra grasped her girlfriend’s hand in her own and guided her towards a looming palm tree. Thick, deep green leaves offered hefty shade from the ever-present heat, and the curved trunk brought respite to Dorothea’s sore back. Petra sat close beside her, leaning into her neck while her hand drifted to rest upon the other woman’s stomach. Her fingers drew light circles upon the thin fabric, tickling her love. 

Dorothea giggled and slung an arm around Petra’s waist, pulling her close to her side. She allowed her head to rest upon Petra’s own, humming a gentle, nostalgic melody. Her weary eyes closed while she allowed the peaceful atmosphere to overtake her. In that moment, nothing mattered but the present. 

She was mere seconds from falling asleep, before a rather rude awakening came in the form of a rough, sudden kick within her stomach.

“Oh!” Petra exclaimed. “Dorothea, our child is saying hello!  _ Hello, my little one! _ ”

It was a strange feeling, but a welcome one indeed. A brilliant grin spread from ear to ear upon Dorothea’s face. It certainly wasn’t the first time she had felt her child moving, but it was definitely the most powerful kick she had received thus far. “So strong,” Dorothea remarked. “I can already tell our baby takes after you.”

“Our child shall be a proud Brigid warrior!” Petra exclaimed, eyes shining with pride. “I cannot be waiting anymore … I am wanting to meet them now!”

“Well, with how big I am, it certainly feels like it’s only going to be a few weeks or so longer,” Dorothea commented, eyeing how her round stomach jutted out. She felt absolutely massive! Even so, she had only been pregnant for around six moons total, with a whole trimester left to tackle. There had been plenty of citizens upon the streets who had seen her and thought she was just about ready to give birth, and acted surprised when she told them in very poor Brigaeli that there were at least three moons left. That, of course, was always followed by a barrage of questions about how she liked Brigid thus far, and what exactly her relationship was to the queen. Each time, Dorothea would insist that Petra and her were merely close friends, but it was a lie that was growing a bit too weak to continue for much longer. Everyone could see how the two of them eyed each other, like they were the most important person in the entire world. “Better for it to take its time. Our baby still has plenty of growing to do, after all! Even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I have understanding. Still, I am hoping that the moons will be going by with swiftness!” the queen wished, tone rife with excitement. “Until then, I will be continuing to sew many animals. My squid is nearing completion!”

In only a few short moons, Petra had become quite adept at the art of sewing. The teddy bear that Bernie has helped her with had long ago been completed, and now she had moved on to cutting the fabric herself. Bernadetta had been befuddled when Petra had requested fabric to craft a squid of all creatures, and it had taken a few weeks for the anxious young noblewoman to finalize a pattern, as she had never seen a squid prior to the queen’s letters. Still, the nearly finished product was even more adorable than Dorothea had imagined, with precious button eyes and soft, fluffy fabric the color of the setting sun. The time and dedication Petra had put into the plush was astounding, and showed just how truly thrilled she was to become a mother. There would not be a moment their child would spend unloved.

“Our little prince or princess will love your squid, Petra,” Dorothea spoke. Her hand slipped downward to her stomach, where she rested it on top of Petra’s. “You work so hard for me, for our child, for all of Brigid… I couldn’t ask for a better woman to spend my life with. I love you, my Petra.”

The look that her lover than gave her was glistening with deep love. Stars shined within her light brown eyes as Petra admired every aspect of her girlfriend: her chocolate brown hair, her green eyes that glittered like a gemstone, her perfect body that was only enhanced by the glow of impending motherhood, her bright red lips… Within a heartbeat, Petra had pressed her own lips against them, hand steadily holding her lover’s chin. The two melted into a passionate kiss, fully indulging in their deep and bountiful love for one another. Dorothea shivered and gasped lightly when Petra nipped lightly at her lower lip, and the queen took advantage of the opening by sliding her tongue into the songstress’s mouth. Dorothea flung her arms around Petra’s shoulders and nudged her ever closer, so that their bodies were practically melded together. She closed her eyes and focused solely upon how Petra tasted like the sweet tang of fruit, with a hint of spice. She let the gentle crashes of the waves upon the sand lead their tongues into a fervent dance, with neither vying for the lead. They tangled together in a perfect harmony, simply basking in the presence of one another. Nothing else in the whole entire world mattered… not even the prying eyes of a few locals who had happened upon the pair.

Dorothea happened to peak her eye open at just the right moment to catch sight of a group of curious onlookers. Alarmed, she tapped Petra upon the shoulder to alert her to the fact that they were no longer alone. The queen of Brigid broke off the kiss and stared at the bunch, which consisted of Brigid citizens ranging from a very wise looking elder to an adorable, wide-eyed child who looked absolutely starstruck at the sight of the queen and her lover. If Dorothea had to guess, they were likely a family and a few close friends.

Panic overtook the songstress, and she hung her mouth open to retort. It was as though she had immediately forgotten all the Brigaeli words she had ever learned, like she was opening a dictionary and finding only blank pages. “Uh… uh…” she stammered.

“ _ I knew it! _ ” proclaimed a teenage girl, eyes sparkling with glee as she clasped her hands together. “ _ You are the queen’s lover!” _

The elder woman’s wrinkled face curved into a nostalgic smile. “ _ Young love is so beautiful _ ,” she commented. “ _ You have nothing to be ashamed of, dear.” _

In her head, Dorothea had gone over a multitude of reactions that the people of Brigid would have to finding out that she was indeed their queen’s lover, and soon-to-be wife. In plenty of scenarios, she was scorned for being a common woman, unfit to take the place beside a gorgeous queen who fit the title in every single way. But there was no hatred in the eyes of this family, no looks of disgust. They looked curious, almost  _ joyous _ for the pair. 

“ _ I… I am thankful… _ ” Dorothea managed out, stumbling over the words. 

A young woman, likely the mother of the teenager and the young child, dressed in a colorful gown and an array of bright jewelry eyed the Adrestian songstress’s stomach inquisitively. “ _ Is that the queen’s child? _ ” she asked.

“ _ ...Yes, _ ” Dorothea responded. She was glad that her novice Brigaeli skills at least allowed her to decipher what the locals were saying, even if she herself was having a difficult time coming up with the right words. 

The teenage girl with bright orange twin braids gasped. “ _ How?! _ ” she demanded, followed by a few other words in Brigaeli that Dorothea couldn’t make out. Her mind scrambled desperately in an attempt to translate them, but found that it was hopeless. Learning another language was incredibly difficult, and she had nothing but immense respect for Petra for managing to do so with little to no help. 

Luckily, Petra swooped in to save Dorothea. “ _ Magic from the spirits, _ ” she explained coolly. “ _ The spirits of love have granted us a child. _ ” She then gave her love a quick peck upon the cheek, earning a chorus of “aww”s from their entranced audience.

“ _ The spirits have blessed your love! _ ” exclaimed the teenager girl. “ _ You must be soulmates! _ ”

Soulmates… Dorothea’s heart thrummed. The word for soulmates in Brigaeli carried a bit of a stronger weight than in Fódlan, where it was mostly seen as fantasy rather than reality. In Brigid, people believed strongly in the concept that everyone’s soul was born tied to another. Petra had never doubted once that Dorothea was her destined one, her soulmate, a fact that she reminded her lover of on a daily basis. Such a declaration never failed to make the former opera singer’s cheeks flush a bright, rosy red. Indeed, it seemed as though the family in front of her was fully receptive to the idea that their queen was soulmates with the Adrestian commoner, and did not question it further. 

They then hurled a storm of questions at the couple, many of which Dorothea failed to translate entirely. Petra ended up doing most of the talking, all while the other woman clung to her arm, gauging their reactions. Not even a speck of doubt was to be found upon their faces. Meanwhile, the child within Dorothea stirred lightly, a gentle reminder of the fruits of their love. The songstress caressed her stomach, smiling warmly to herself. She was living in a brand new country with a loving partner and people who accepted her, and she even had a  _ child _ on the way. The spirits of Brigid had truly blessed the fated lovers. Her anxious frown swiftly shifted into that of a radiant smile.

Never before had Dorothea felt more like she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am EXHAUSTED, but i will respond to all your lovely comments on my last chapter soon! if you follow my twitter, you'll know that i've been working on another, longer fanfic. however, this time i'm trying something a bit different: i am going to finish the fanfic before i post it, and then do weekly chapters. in the meantime, i will be updating this fanfic as i see fit.
> 
> i really love all your comments and i hope to read more this chapter! thank you so much for all your support.


	10. Double

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late and I had to proofread this one quickly, so sorry if there's any blatant errors I didn't catch. I intended to get this done earlier, but well, things happen.

Summer’s end brought with it the promise of autumn’s harvest, and with it the resurgence of local farmers in the bustling marketplace. While Brigid was not known for its viable farm land, instead favoring hunting and fishing as methods of obtaining nourishment, the afternoon market was chock full of fruits and vegetables of all kinds anyhow. There were even some colorful fruits Dorothea had never seen before hanging from furred roofs of stalls. 

“Ah, that one is called… erm, in your language, it would be called a dragon fruit,” Petra informed her girlfriend, peering over her shoulder.

Dorothea blinked at the odd fruit she held up in the palm of her hand, twisting it around and viewing all angles of its spiky surface. It was strikingly hot pink, almost red in color, and stood out far from any Fódlan fruit in the songstress’s memory. She could barely fathom what such an extravagant plant could taste like.

“It is having a sweet taste,” Petra went on, “but many are finding the taste to be erm… I am not knowing the correct word. Strong?”

“Hm… might be something to save for another time, then,” Dorothea decided as she sat the fruit down back upon the market’s table alongside a group of identical plants. “I’d rather not upset my stomach…” A hand slipped downwards to her still growing stomach, which now stuck out prominently. Six months of pregnancy, and her bloated belly already felt like it was a full, nine months pregnant. Her child had become incredibly active in the last few days, restless even. It was uncomfortable, to say the very least.

Petra nodded in agreement. “Then it would be doing you well to be avoiding the erm.. they are calling it pineapple in Fódlan, but it is called _ ananas _ in most other languages. It is that fruit there.” The queen pointed at a large, yellow, thorny fruit with an impressive brush of leaves growing from its top. “Though it is having great flavor, eating too much will be hurting your mouth.”

“Maybe another day, when I’m not quite so pregnant,” the Adrestian woman suggested. “Still, it’s fun to learn.”

“I am in agreement! Even if you are not able to be eating the fruits of Brigid, it brings me great joy to be sharing them with you,” gushed the queen of Brigid, flashing her wife-to-be a shiny white grin. 

Indeed, only a year ago, Petra was only able to describe the fauna of her homeland to Dorothea. Though the other woman had been able to get a brief glimpse at the archipelago when they had traveled there to fight against invading church soldiers, they were hardly there to sightsee. Bernie had spent moons painting a variety of plants afterwards, and Dorothea recalled fondly listening as Petra named each and every one of them. How strange to think that she would see those very plants every day.

“Mmm, I’d love to hear more, but I’m feeling a bit hungry right now. Why don’t we sit and chat over some lunch?” Dorothea suggested.

“That is a great idea!”

Petra ended up purchasing the dragon fruit from the stall, alongside a few other assorted fruits and vegetables. The young farmer was clearly honored to have her produce bought by the queen of Brigid and her lover, as her eyes sparkled as though awestruck throughout the entire transaction. As any civilian of Brigid did, she had plenty of questions for the lovebirds, which Dorothea answered to the best of her ability in broken Bragaeli speech. Before she knew it, there was a curious crowd forming around her, all eager to hear the answers they’d been dying to know. 

As it turned out, the people of Brigid were incredibly accepting of the queen’s relationship, so much so that Dorothea wondered why the former king had insisted they hide it. Likely, it was precaution in case their relationship did not work out, but now that the two knew that their wedding was inevitable, Petra proudly paraded her lover around all of the archipelago, hand in hand. She had no qualms about kissing her full upon the lips in public, and showering her in a barrage of affection. By now, it seemed as though every person in Brigid knew of their love. 

Of course, there were a few who were skeptical at first, when they spotted Dorothea’s pregnant stomach. Was it even possible for the two to produce a child together? However, once Petra had told them that it was a blessing from the spirits, all of their uncertainty vanished. Such a simple explanation was enough, even though the truth was far more complex than that. 

The questions that the crowd hurled at her were much the same as always. How long they had been together for, if they were to be married soon, when their child would be born. Most of the questions were ones she had answered about a hundred times over in the past two weeks, but as the conversation continued, new questions began to arise.

“_ The baby will be born three months from now _?” a middle-aged woman with graying hair asked, eyeing Dorothea’s belly with an uncertain gaze. 

“_ That is what I was saying, yes, _” Dorothea confirmed. 

Petra pulled her lover into her side, hand settling upon her prominent belly. A warm look of love washed over her features as she nuzzled against the taller woman’s neck. “_ Yes! Three short months,” _ the queen confirmed. “ _ I am very excited to meet our little one. _”

An old, grandmother aged woman with silver braided hair contemplated the royal couple’s words, fingers rubbing her brightly tattooed chin. “_ You are much bigger than I was at six months, _ ” she told Dorothea. “ _ You are certain you are six months pregnant? _”

The songstress nodded. Her menstruation cycle had been completely normal prior to the moon of discovery, leaving the possibility of her actually being further along than she was out of the question. Still, there was truth to the grandmother’s words. One of her own hands joined Petra’s in holding her stomach, where her little one had begun to fidget. They certainly seemed to move a lot. Sometimes, Dorothea swore her child was doing acrobatics in there.

“_ Yes, _ ” Petra spoke for Dorothea. “ _ It is not possible for her to be further along. _”

The woman with the dusty, graying hair furrowed her eyebrows and narrowed her sea blue eyes. “_ It is just one child? _” she asked.

Dorothea blinked at the question. “_ What _?”

“_ You are only having one child? _” the woman repeated. 

“_ Well, I _ …” the Adrestian woman paused as her rosy lips curved into a frown. She thought back to the day her pregnancy was confirmed, with Petra and that physician using his white magic to detect signs of life within her. He hadn’t exactly specified _ how _ many little lives were growing within her. In the numerous books on pregnancy and motherhood that she had buried her nose in for the last moons, there was little text on what it was like to be pregnant with multiple children, but one _ had _ mentioned how twins tended to make the stomach look as though it was growing faster. The puzzle pieces began to snap together in her head, her eyes lighting up in realization. “ _ I… I do not know… _” She glanced frantically to Petra for her opinion, only to find that her lover looked quite perplexed as well. “Petra, what did the physician say?” she asked in her own language.

“Ah… he was saying that you had life growing inside you, but… I do not have certainty if the spell is to be checking for how _ many _ lives,” Petra confirmed. 

“So, what you’re telling me is that… it _ is _possible…”

Petra nodded stiffly, her hand rubbing soothing circles upon Dorothea’s stomach, as if to calm the squirming child within. The little one was acting restless, sharply kicking their mother and forcing her to wince. The songstress’s mind was racing with possibilities all the while. Could it be that there was not one, but two children causing the ruckus within? A twinge of excitement sparked within, yet at the same time, an icy surge of anxiety shot through her veins. If there were really two children, then could she be a good enough mother to care for them both? 

“_ We will check with a physician, _” Petra told the audience, earning mutters and gossip from amongst the curious citizens they had amassed. 

All of a sudden, Dorothea didn’t feel too hungry anymore. With the sudden rush of emotions that had overtaken her, she felt as though she had to rush back to the castle as soon as possible, and summon the physician at once. This date would have to be put on hold, so that she could answer the burning question on both of their minds. 

* * *

Brigid’s royal couple returned home to their castle shortly thereafter, and Petra wasted no time in asking for the physician who had been giving Dorothea regular check-ups every few weeks. Despite all the signs, never once had he expressed the opinion that the young songstress might be carrying twins rather than just the single child. As Dorothea sat upon their shared, grand bed, all alone in their room, she bounced her leg up and down nervously. She pulled her bottom lip underneath her teeth, biting lightly as she sought to calm her heart. The child—or children, as it would seem—within her had settled. All she could do was wait for her lover to return with the medic.

Luckily, it appeared that the physician was not busy, as Petra returned after only ten minutes with the old man following her. The queen rushed to Dorothea’s side in a hurry, a small bead of sweat slithering down her forehead. Was she nervous, or was she just worn out from running all over the castle in search of the doctor? She plopped down by her girlfriend’s side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pecking her flushed cheeks with a soft kiss. The physician soon approached the two, hobbling over on his old cane. He stopped to gaze at Dorothea’s stomach inquisitively, his olive green wise eyes studying her with a lips curved into a curious smile. 

“_ Are you feeling well today, Dorothea _ ?” he asked as he pulled up an intricately carved wooden chair beside the bed. He tucked his cane against the seat and sat himself down on the brightly decorated cushion. “ _ Her majesty had me come in quite a hurry.” _

“_ Ah, yes, I _…” she stammered upon her unsteady Brigaeli speech, internally cursing herself for still being so rocky. It was hard to translate her thoughts into another language when her mind was already overcrowded. 

Petra picked up on her lover’s struggle, and stroked her exposed shoulder reassuringly. “_ We had a conversation about her stomach, and how it is bigger than normal. We wanted to see if there was, perhaps, two babies _.”

The physician's stiff head nodded. “_ I agree that she seems big, but _—” the rest of his words were lost on Dorothea’s ears, his Brigaeli speech quick and littered with formal words that she couldn’t quite wrap her head around. When he was speaking just to Dorothea, he tended to avoid speaking with such advanced phrases, but it was very difficult to keep up when he was sharing conversation with the queen. 

“_ Oh, we are not worried, _ ” assured Petra, keeping her speech simple so that Dorothea could easily decipher her words. “ _ I think she and the child are healthy. But it is possible that there are two children. Her stomach has grown quickly, and the baby is moving a lot. Is there a way for you to check? _”

“_ Of course. I will prepare the magic. It will take but a moment, Dorothea, _” the medic informed the two of them, switching back to more simple speech. 

“_ Thank you _,” breathed Dorothea, feeling her heartbeat go wild within her chest. She was almost as nervous as the day the physician had first inspected her, and how could she not be? Having a child was already nerve wracking on the young woman, but two babies at once? She held back her thoughts, stowing them away for when she had confirmation of her suspicions. The songstress took a deep breath in and held it, watching the physician's weathered old hands begin to glow with the gentle light of white magic. Her fingers instinctively grasped Petra’s thigh, and the queen pulled her in ever closer. 

“It is all right, my beloved,” hummed Petra. “I am right here.”

She nodded shakily, and the physician began. His fingers trailed up and down the silky, loose purple dress atop her stomach, causing Dorothea to shudder with the strange tingling sensation. It felt like the magic was seeping into her flesh and prodding at what was inside. In fact, Dorothea could feel an uncomfortable squirming within her. Her child—or children—clearly was not a fan of the tickling magic. She closed her eyes and leaned into her lover, allowing herself to be eased by the sensation of her dearest beside her. Just a few moments more, and it would be over.

The magic upon the physician's fingers dwindled into mere sparks, and then faded all together. His curious olive gaze broke from Dorothea’s stomach to meet her eyes, and then, with the smallest of smiles, he gave her a curt nod.

“_ Yes. I can sense another life within you _ ,” he confirmed. “ _ There are two children. Congratulations. _”

Even though it was the response Dorothea had been expecting, her green eyes still widened and her jaw still went slack, her already galloping heart picking up its pace. She gingerly touched her stomach as though in disbelief, trying to wrap her head around the revelation. Twins…! There were two little twins growing inside of her. 

Petra’s radiant grin spread from ear to ear, and she could no longer contain her joy. Soft pink eyes kindled with newfound excitement, and her twitching legs looked moments from leaping into the air. She contained herself, however, and instead opted to swing both her arms around her lover and pull her in for a tight embrace. “I can hardly believe it! Dorothea, we are to be having twins!” she shouted in glee. “Oh, my beloved, I am filled with such joy!”

Despite her nerves, the songstress laughed a melodic, sweet laugh. She tenderly returned the hug, running her hands up and down her beloved’s bare back. “Yes, twins,” she repeated. “Oh, my beloved Petra. I never would have thought such a thing possible…!”

Petra giggled and pulled back so that she could look her girlfriend in the eyes, so that she could see all the warmth and love that lingered within. They leaned in close enough so that their noses touched, so that they could feel each other’s hot breath on their lips. Dorothea resisted the temptation to close the distance between them, as the physician was still sitting nearby, waiting patiently for his instructions.

“_ Tell my grandfather at once, please, _ ” Petra told the old physician, briefly breaking eye contact with her girlfriend. “ _ I will speak with him later. For now, I want to spend time with my Dorothea _.”

“_ Understood, your Majesty. It will be done. _”

The physician did not need to be told anything else. He gathered his cane and carried himself out the door as swiftly as his old legs would allow him. Once the grand wooden doors were shut, Petra waited no longer. She lunged for Dorothea’s lips as though starved for her touch, an action which the former opera singer returned with full fervor. She melted into the warmth of her beloved, her lips curved into a smile against Petra’s kisses. 

“My beloved, my heart is filled with joy,” the queen confessed quietly between the storm of quick kisses. “I was always wanting another child, but I was not thinking it would come so soon! The spirits have truly blessed us.”

Dorothea giggled. “Hm… or, you’re just that good in bed,” she suggested with a waggle of her eyebrows, a teasing look in her green eyes. “I mean, I certainly felt like I—”

“—Dorothea!” Petra interjected. “I do not think that is how it works…”

“No, but it’s fun to pretend, don’t you think? All joking aside, though…” She took a breath in as she allowed the smile to melt from her face, allowed for her to delve into the worries she had temporarily tossed aside. “Do… do you think I can do it? I mean, raising two children at once…”

“Yes,” Petra answered, not a shred of doubt in her confident eyes. “Back at the monastery, you were always caring for the orphans of war, remember? I am having certainty that you will be a wonderful mother!”

The opera singer gulped uneasily, but nodded all the same. “Thank you, Petra. I just… it’s all so new, and… well, unexpected! I mean, we’re having twins! We’re going to be mothers to two, tiny children. I never… I mean, I never dared think that the spell could ever work to begin with, but not only did it work, it worked so well that I’m pregnant with _ two _ children. I just… wow, it’s all a lot, really.”

“I have understanding,” Petra responded. Her fingers trailed down from Dorothea’s cheek and down to her stomach, to settle upon the prominent bump. She could feel the miniscule movements of her two small children, who were beginning to calm after the strange bout of magic. “This is also being new to me. I was always knowing that one day I would be having a child to inherit the throne, but I was not thinking it would be so soon. It is strange and confusing, but at the same time, I am having excitement. Together, we can do it. Knowing that you are by my side helps calm my nerves.”

Of course Petra was nervous. Dorothea was sensitive to her girlfriend’s feelings, even the ones she sought to hide. The huntress was used to hiding all of her anxieties underneath a smiling face, to bearing heavy burdens and duties upon her shoulders without giving anyone a hint of her own struggles. It was just another skill that she had picked up to survive amongst the sea of cruel Adrestians, who treated her like she was a strange creature rather than a human being. Dorothea caressed Petra’s cheek, just below the vivid tattoo underneath her eye, and shot her a loving smile. “You’re so strong, my love. We can definitely do this. We defeated a dragon, for goodness’ sake! Raising two kids should be nothing compared to that, right?” 

“Right! We will be trying with hardness to be the best mothers!” agreed Petra with fiery determination.

“All right then! It’s decided. Let’s work hard for our children, all right?” Dorothea spoke with a slight giggle. “Actually, how about we start discussing names? I think it’s about that time we start looking into it.”

“I am in agreement! In fact, I am having a book here of many Brigaeli names. Let us be reading it together!” declared Petra. 

“Sounds good to me! You’ll have to tell me about what they all mean. I want nothing but the best for our children!” 

Petra hopped off of the bed and scurried towards their dark wooden bookshelf, scrambling to find the correct book. Meanwhile, Dorothea watched with a tender expression, hands folded on top of her stomach. Inside, two little children were resting, growing bigger, waiting for the day they were strong enough to enter this world. With the nearby ocean waves singing bringing with it the song of tranquil days and the songbirds humming the promise of a bright future, there was no better time to bring a child into the world. They would know nothing of the horrors Fódlan faced, nor know of the bloodshed of war. No matter what, Dorothea and Petra would not allow them to suffer as they had. Their lives would be nothing but peaceful, and filled with the joy of a loving family. 

The two expectant mothers could hardly wait for the coming moons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I chose not to be subtle about the whole twin situation since I had already expressed an interest in doing doropetra twins on my twitter. But still... two babies!!! Again, try not to question the whole magic pregnancy thing. I have no real interest in working around the intricacies of how such magic worked in the first place, this whole fic is just fluffy lesbian fantasy... and maybe some angst in the future?? (But don't worry, I'm not going to kill their children, I have no idea why anyone would ever write something like that).
> 
> So thank you again for following this fanfic, and leave a comment or kudo if you liked! I'd love to hear your opinions... and if there's anything specific you'd like to see my write in this fanfic. I'm still working hard on my other au, which is only halfway finished and at 23,000 words, lmfao. I might go ahead and post the first chapter, but that depends on what you guys want. I don't want it to seem like I'm throwing too many fanfics at you with no hope of finishing them. I know a lot of you are waiting on the next chapter for my vampire au, but I just haven't had the spark or inspiration to continue. I will finish it though, someday. I just worry that I have too many ideas and that my readers will just go, "ugh, she posted a new fanfic without finishing her old one AGAIN?"
> 
> Oh and, in case you aren't already aware, I'm helping host this year's [Doropetra Week event](https://twitter.com/DoroPetraWeek), which will take place at the end of March! Please check it out if you haven't, I'd love to get as many participants as possible!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! And again, be sure to leave a comment. I love reading comments.


	11. Lazy Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some quick fluff for this week's update!

Petra hummed quietly to herself as she wove her needle and thread through black fabric with precision, fingers working diligently to complete her latest project. She carefully stitched a soft wing to the main frame of what was to be a plush eagle, a pattern that had been sent to her by Bernadetta and chosen by Emperor Edelgard herself. The autumn air of the Horsebow Moon brushed through burgundy locks as she finished the final stitch. She held the nearly-completed stuffed animal up to the afternoon sun’s rays, smiling with delight at how well it was coming along. A few moons ago, she never would have thought she could have created something as  _ adorable _ as this. Sewing was always a talent held in high regard in Brigid, but she had been stolen away long before the knowledge could be passed down to her. 

It felt wonderful to be home, and with the love of her life in tow to boot. She had been confined to the empire for ten whole years, enough time for her to consider Fódlan something of a second home. The Black Eagle Strike Force had become her family when she had lost her own, and she deeply cherished the tender moments she had shared with them. But she had missed absolutely everything about her Brigid, and had lamented the days that had been taken from her. She had skipped out on so much by spending the entirety of her adolescence in Fódlan, and now, she was hastily making up for lost time. 

“ _ One more wing left _ …” muttered Petra as she sat the eagle down upon her desk, which she had temporarily moved to the balcony. The weather was calm, and basking in the outdoors fueled her energy and motivation. With the sudden revelation that she was expecting  _ two  _ children instead of just one, the queen of Brigid had her work cut out for her. She had already made a handful of stuffed animals for her one child, but now, she needed twice as many so that neither child would feel left out. 

Her heart surged with excitement, and her smile grew ever wider. She was going to be a mother in less than three short moons to two beautiful babies. It was getting harder and harder to wait—she wanted to meet her children! Whenever she lay in bed beside her girlfriend, stroking her stomach, she’d stay awake wondering endlessly what sort of kids they would turn out to be. Which one of them would they take after? What kind of hobbies would they have? Who would they look more like?

Despite all that she was looking forward to, there was still plenty to worry about. She was still incredibly young, only twenty-two years old, and had little experience with children. Though she would sometimes assist Dorothea and Yuri with the war orphans who had taken refuge in the monastery, that was about the extent of her knowledge. A good portion of her time in Fódlan had been spent locked in Enbarr’s castle, and childcare wasn’t something she had learned in her studies at Garegg Mach. So, to be taking care of not one, but  _ two  _ children… it would certainly prove difficult. Petra, however, was never one to shy away from a challenge, and instead face it head on. She had conquered plenty of hardships in her short life, and this one seemed like a shorter hurdle than some of the other adversaries she had faced. 

But there was one matter she fretted over more so than the others.

“ _ Two children? _ ” her grandfather had exclaimed when she had delivered upon him the news, shock growing upon his wrinkled features. “ _ You mean to tell me that there will be two heirs? How are you supposed to decide who will claim the throne? _ ”

When it came to matters of inheritance in Brigid, it was usually the eldest child who ascended the throne. To Petra, it seemed unfair to award the title of future king or queen upon whichever child was born minutes before the other. There was plenty else to consider when it came to choosing a replacement when she was too old to rule. Her smile soured as she thought over the problem once more. Only one of her children would get to inherit her title, and how was she supposed to choose, when she already loved both equally?

“Petra?” Dorothea’s voice called to her from inside. Moments later, the glass door creaked open, revealing the disheveled, sleep-addled figure of Petra’s future wife. 

“Good afternoon, my love,” Petra greeted, giving her beloved a warm look.

Dorothea blinked her weary eyes. “Afternoon…?” she repeated. “It’s already afternoon? Have I really been sleeping all this time?”

Petra nodded. “Yes. I did not want to be waking you.” Her eyes drifted downwards towards her lover’s still growing stomach, covered by the thin layer of Dorothea’s violet silk nightgown. “You are needing plenty of rest for our little ones.”

Dorothea cradled her heavy stomach in her arms. “They’re completely restless this morning—erm, afternoon,” she corrected, lips falling into a frown. “And last night, they were keeping me awake for hours! I can already tell they’re going to take after you, strong and athletic.”

The queen of Brigid stepped away from her desk and towards her girlfriend, unable to help herself from smiling. She crouched down so that her eyes were at level with Dorothea’s protruding belly. “ _ Are you two keeping your mother awake? You must let her rest! _ ” she chided in Brigaeli. “ _ She is working hard for both of you. _ ”

Dorothea’s eyebrows furrowed and her forehead creased as she attempted to decipher Petra’s words. “Something about… keeping me awake?” she surmised. 

“I was scolding them for keeping you up,” Petra confirmed as she stood. “Hopefully they will be listening to you and allowing you to rest.”

“Hm, wouldn’t that be something?” giggled Dorothea. “But I doubt it. I can only imagine they’ll start getting even more active in the next moons. As if it wasn’t already a strain on my body…”

Petra couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Even though Dorothea had volunteered to be the one to carry their children, she still felt sorry for giving her that burden. “Perhaps you should be sitting,” she advised. She placed her hand upon her lover’s shoulder and nudged her lightly towards the glass door. “I am needing a break from sewing as well. I did not think it would be hurting my hands as much as it is.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” agreed Dorothea.

Petra led her wife-to-be indoors, but left the glass door open so that the ocean’s breeze and the scent of sea salt could filter in. She sat her upon their plush couch and immediately joined her side. One of her arms wrapped around Dorothea’s waist while the other went to settle upon her stomach, idly drawing circles upon it with a single finger. She nestled into Dorothea’s neck and breathed in her familiar scent, sighing happily. Indeed, she could feel light flutters of her active children underneath, and it made her heart swell with pride. Within Dorothea were two perfect babies they had created themselves, with the help of a little magic. They had defied all odds by refusing to give in, and the result was just teetering a few short moons away…! 

“I can feel them,” Petra whispered, followed by a small giggle. “Those are our children, Dorothea!”

Dorothea laughed warmly, nuzzling closer to her beloved. “Yes, yes they are! And they’re little troublemakers! I can only imagine what they’ll get up to once they’re finally born. I’m sure I won’t be sleeping for a while!”

Petra’s hand went flat against her partner’s stomach, soothing her with loving strokes. “There are many servants that can be providing help,” she reminded Dorothea. “They can be caring for the children for us so that we can be sleeping.”

Dorothea took an unsteady breath in, and then shook her head. “I know, but… to me, that just doesn’t seem fair,” she admitted. Maybe it’s strange, but… growing up, I didn’t have any servants to take care of me. My mother raised me all on her own. There was no one there to help her when I woke up in the middle of the night. All those frustrations are just part of raising a child, right? I don’t want to put that in the hands of a servant, just because I’m going to be married to a queen. I want to raise our children together, even if that means making those sacrifices!” Her emerald eyes gleamed as she continued onwards, lips formed into a pleasant smile. “I want to spend all the time I can with our children. I want to be the best mother possible!”

Though Petra came from a vastly different background than her lover, she could still understand her sentiments. Even the royals of Brigid spent plenty of time taking care of their young children, and there were many beliefs in how they needed to be raised in order to strengthen their bonds. She had been baffled when she had arrived in Fódlan and learned of the noble’s strange practices of simply tossing their children into the arms of an array of servants, each with a different purpose. The servants would tend to each and every one of the baby’s needs without  _ ever _ forcing the parents to put in any effort. Many mothers did not even feed their own child, and handed them off to a nurse! Such a concept would be blasphemous in Brigid, where feeding was seen as a spiritually binding process between mother and child. 

Even though they were faint and near completely faded, Petra had brief memories of being a child no older than two years. She remembered being cradled in her mother’s arms, being sung to by her father, being tucked into bed snug between the two of them. She still held those moments near and dear to her heart, especially now that both her parents were long gone.

If she could give her children similar such memories without having to reminisce upon them with such tragic lens, that would mean the entire world to her.

“I have understanding. I am wanting that as well,” agreed Petra. Even though the hardships that came with it would add to the already loaded stack of difficulties they would experience, the queen knew that it would be worth it in the end. Even nights spent wide awake easing a sobbing child who could not seem to calm down would be a part of the experience of motherhood, and Petra was too hardworking, too ambitious, to simply leave that to be someone else’s trouble. 

“Good! I’m glad you agree with me, Petra. We’re going to have our hands full, but I think it’ll be worth it in the end!” beamed Dorothea, simply glowing with excitement. “Oh, I just can’t wait anymore! I want to meet our children now, Petra!”

It seemed the children shared their mother’s sentiments, for Petra gasped as she felt a powerful kick against the palm of her hand. Dorothea jolted in response, her eyes momentarially widening before she laughed in delight. Petra immediately joined her lover in the chorus of laughter, filling the room with their uproarious giggles.

“It will not be much longer now,” Petra reminded Dorothea once they had both settled. “I am hoping the next moons go by with quickness.”

“I agree. It’ll be nice to not be pregnant. In the meantime, there’s still so much we have to do to prepare…” 

“Yes. But for now, I would be liking it if we could just be cuddling.” All that sewing and worrying over inheritance could be set aside for later. For now, she could simply bask in the warmth of her girlfriend’s love. 

“Of course, Petra. Of course,” Dorothea agreed.

The two huddled together wordlessly, listening to the calls of the sea birds as they soared in the cloudless sky above. Soon enough, their feisty children settled, and the family all relaxed together in the glow of love. Petra leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lover’s collarbone, earning a sigh of contentment. It mattered not that they were wasting the afternoon away. Sometimes, Petra thought, time was better spent relaxing than working so very hard.

After all, who knew how many moments they’d get like this when the children were born?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i held a poll on my twitter, and narrowly the option of having more pregnancy fluff as opposed to them having the children now won. so this is a little fluffy chapter, this from petra's perspective because it's been a few chapters since we last saw her point of view.
> 
> now though, i will ask: do you want more of this fluff, or would you like them to have the children in the next chapter? please let me know in the comments section!
> 
> oh, and do check out my other fanfiction, [Withered Petals of my Beastly Love.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22961821/chapters/54889021) ive been working on it for around a month now and it would mean the world to me if you could give it a read as well! only the first chapter is posted, but trust me, theres gonna be plenty more! and i dont think i need to remind you again to go check out [Doropetra Week](https://twitter.com/doropetraweek) which is starting at the end of this month. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading!


	12. Retreat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Doropetra Week! There will be seven chapters based on the prompts to celebrate. Here's the first! Today's prompt was "Retreat."

Dorothea could hear the cries of dying soldiers everywhere around her.

She could smell the sickening scent of thick blood splattering all across the battlefield, creating a river of murky red as the falling rain carried the sanguine puddles into the flowing stream. Her heartbeat surged rapidly as she came face to face with a trembling kingdom soldier, blue eyes painted over with fear. He couldn’t be older than twenty, judging by his youthful face. His shaky hands gripped his lance and pointed it towards Dorothea, attempting to put on a brave face.

“For King Dimitri…!” he shouted before running towards Dorothea.

But Dorothea was faster. Lighting sparked from her fingertips and shot directly at the soldier, forcing a hoarse shriek from his throat before he crumpled to the floor, joining the sea of corpses that painted the Tailtean Plains. Strangely, Dorothea found that she felt nothing but emptiness at the sight. She had taken far too many lives, and to sob over each and every one of them grew tiresome. She brushed away droplets of rain from her face, and wondered to herself if any of them were tears she hadn’t realized she shed.

But a high-pitched scream echoing from across the field forced her away from her morbid thoughts. Her head jolted up. 

“Petra!?” she called.

Dorothea broke off into a mad dash, jumping over heaps of rigid corpses and weapons abandoned by their deceased wielders. Her shoes kicked up mud and splashed unsightly sludge all over her legs, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her heart was galloping like a horse charging into battle, and as the terrified screeches of her lover grew even closer, terror gripped at her being.

“Petra…!” she screamed desperately.

“Dorothea!” a voice returned, but it wasn’t Petra’s. It was Edelgard, dashing in her direction with an icy look upon her face. “We must retreat.”

“W...What?” she stammered out. But this was supposed to be the final battle! They were mere moments away from reclaiming their happiness…! “Edie, please, where’s Petra!?”

Edelgard gave her a sharp, stern look and said absolutely nothing. Immediately, Dorothea felt her veins grow cold.

“Edie… where is she…?” she repeated weakly, her throat feeling constricted with panic. 

“I’m sorry, Dorothea,” Edelgard told her, a crack of remorse in her calm and collected tone. “ But we have to move,  _ now _ . The church is sending in more soldiers.”

Suddenly, everything came crashing down. All of the terrors she had ever harbored had suddenly come true. All those late nights her and Petra had spent together, discussing their beautiful future in Brigid, had evaporated in a second, and she hadn’t even been there to stop it. Her stature grew dizzy, and she felt as though she was choking on her own breath. “N… No… that can’t be right…” she gasped out. “I… I need to see her, Edie…!”

“Dorothea, I understand how you feel, but if we don’t move now, you’ll end up the same as her. Is that what she would want? Now  _ go _ ,” Edelgard ordered strictly, eyebrows narrowing as her gaze bore into the songstress’s soul.

“No!” Dorothea protested, unwilling to listen to her friend’s commands. “I… I have to see her! Please! There has to be a way to save her…!” She wished to burst off into a sprint, to run to her fallen lover’s side, to hold her close to her chest and heal her with her white magic, but it felt as though her feet were glued to the floor. She felt terribly, terribly weak, almost as though she was about to collapse there and then. “Petra… Petra can’t be—“

“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert’s voice interrupted them. When had he even gotten there? His snake-like yellow eyes turned towards Dorothea. “We have no time left. Shall I take care of her for you?”

“Yes, Hubert. Do what you must.”

With that, Edelgard retreated, leaving behind her faithful servant and the heartbroken Dorothea, who started to hobble forward, drawn towards the resting place of her now deceased lover. Her hand extended outwards, as if reaching for her soul, wanting to touch her just one last time…

“Petra… Petra…!” 

Hubert shook his head and snapped his fingers, summoning thin chains of dark magic that bound itself to Dorothea, ensnaring her in his grip. She screeched out and tried to fight back against the magic, but found herself unable to do anything except shout Petra’s name. Complete and utter despair washed over her, gripping her heart, forcing tears from her eyes. 

“Come now, Dorothea, Lady Edelgard demands it,” Hubert coaxed.

“N...no… no… I can’t… I can’t leave her… I… Petra…  ** _Petra…_ ** .!!!

Dorothea sat up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Sheets of soft fur tumbled off of her and to the floor of the bedroom. Her vision frantically darted back and forth across the dark room, settling on the familiar tapestry of a sunset upon the ocean that hung from the wall. The faint smell of the sea wafted in through the open balcony, easing Dorothea’s racing heart. She was not on the battlefield in Fódlan—she was here in Brigid, safe and sound and sitting beside her sleeping girlfriend, who was very much alive. Petra had not died at the battle for the Tailtean plains, in fact, she had been an instrumental part of securing the Black Eagle Strike Force’s victory. 

And here she had thought she had chased away those awful nightmares, those terrifying memories of war. 

Dorothea felt a sharp kick at her stomach, followed by another. She was nine whole moons pregnant, and her babies seemed to feel their mother’s distress. She shifted back underneath her covers and adjusted her body uncomfortably, so that her bloated abdomen was resting upon soft pillows. Her whole body ached from the stress of pregnancy and the nightmare, which was still circling about in her mind, unwilling to vanish. She felt deeply nauseous at the mere thought of losing her beloved Petra,  _ especially  _ when she was mere days away from giving birth to their wonderful children. 

Petra was completely peaceful in her sleep, with the smallest of smiles formed upon her lips as she breathed calmly, undisturbed by her wife’s sudden awakening. Dorothea wished not to rouse her from such pleasant slumber, but at the same time, after that horrible nightmare, she  _ needed  _ to hear her voice. She lightly tapped her girlfriend, and when that did not work, shook her arm. Finally, Petra’s eye peaked open and she murmured softly as she shuffled underneath the covers.

“Dorothea…?” she spoke as she blinked and looked out the window. It was well into the night and morning was nowhere near close, for the sky was still pitch black. “Are you being all right? It is still midnight, and you are looking very pale…”

Dorothea shook her head, and Petra promptly sat up. Worry shone within her dusty pink eyes as she placed a hand upon her lover’s cheek.

“I had a nightmare again,” Dorothea confessed, feeling shame. “It was the final battle at the Tailtean Plains. We were fighting the kingdom, and… and I heard your scream. I… I tried to go find you, but Edie… Edie told me you were dead, and I—I…”

Petra placed a finger to her lips and hushed her. Her other hand snaked downwards to rest upon her stomach, gently stroking it. Their children were still causing quite a fuss, stirring restlessly underneath their mother’s palm. “It is all right. It was just a nightmare,” she assured her softly. “I am not dead. I am being alive, and we are to be having children very soon. After our children are born, we will be married, and we will be having the most beautiful wedding!”

Dorothea nodded stiffly, shivering at the feeling of Petra’s fingers dancing across her stomach. “You’re right, I… these things shouldn’t still get to me. It’s been a long time since we were at war. I don’t know why I keep having these awful nightmares,” she sighed. “You’re so strong, Petra.”

“Hm?” Petra glanced up from Dorothea’s stomach and met her gaze. 

“I mean, here I am, still haunted by all those lives I took. Our friends, our former classmates, even those enemy soldiers whose names I never learned, but you… You’re always looking to the future. I wish I could be more like you,” she admired. 

Petra’s expression fell, and her eyes clouded over with darkness. “I wish that were having truth,” she whispered.

“Ah, Petra…?”

“It is true that I am always thinking of the future. I cannot be thinking with hardness upon the past when I am having a whole country to be ruling. The future of Brigid is in my hands, not the past. But I am often having these dreams as well,” she admitted. “I am dreaming of the war, and the friends we were unable to be saving. I am dreaming of… the day I learned my parents had died, and when I was forced upon the ships of the empire to be taken away from Brigid.”

“Petra…” Dorothea breathed, feeling rather foolish. “I… I never noticed, you... you never told me…

“That is because I am wanting to be strong for you, for our children, for all of Brigid. I do not want you to be worrying about me,  _ my love _ ,” she explained cautiously, her lips falling into a frown. “You are already having too much stress.”

Dorothea shook her head. “Petra, darling, that doesn’t mean you have to hide things like this from me,” she insisted, laying her hand atop the one Petra had rested on her stomach. “I… I didn’t know you felt this way. You’re always working so hard for the both of us. Isn’t that not fair? I want to be able to help you, too.”

Petra seemed uncertain, but nodded. “I… I have understanding. It is hard to be discussing my feelings sometimes. Back when I was a child in Fódlan, I had to be putting on a face of bravery, even though I was terrified. Sometimes, I was tricking myself into not having fear,” she continued. “I was just feeling that it was silly for me to be fearing the past when it has already happened.”

Hearing Petra’s words nearly broke Dorothea’s heart. Her poor girlfriend had worn herself so thin throughout her life from such a young age for the sake of those she cared for. “It’s not silly at all, Petra. We’re all traumatized by what happened, but it doesn’t help to keep all those emotions buried inside. I’m always here whenever you have those dreams, all right?” she reminded her sweetheart. “Just like you’re here for me right now.”

“I have understanding now,” Petra replied with a soft smile. “Next time, I will be telling you if I am feeling fear from a nightmare. However, I am thinking that will not be happening for some time.”

Dorothea paused. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because our children will be keeping us wide awake, silly!” laughed Petra, breaking out into a grin. “We will not have time to be having nightmares.”

“Oh yeah! Only a few more days now,” Dorothea remembered, her own expression mimicking Petra’s. “Did your grandfather agree to let Manuela come? He better have, since she’s already on her way here.”

“He had agreement!” confirmed Petra. 

“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Dorothea. 

When her mentor had first heard of the news of Dorothea’s pregnancy, she had written her a long letter expressing how happy she was for the two of them, followed by long tales of how her love life hadn’t been any more successful following the unification of Fódlan. After exchanging a few letters, Manuela had decided to come visit her student in Brigid and assist in the delivery of Dorothea’s children, despite her self-proclaimed dislike of babies. All the books Dorothea had read about childbirth had made the task seem extremely daunting, and having another familiar face nearby to assist her put her at ease. Manuela was an experienced nurse and had delivered a few babies in the past, so Dorothea knew that she and her children would be in good hands. Besides, she was  _ extremely _ excited to catch up with her beloved teacher, to show her the life she had carved out for herself from her beginnings as a starving orphan. Maybe she could even convince her to stay for a while longer, especially if the men of Fódlan weren’t giving her any luck….

“I hope she’ll stay a little while longer. She  _ says _ she hates children, but she has a soft spot deep down inside, I just know it. Besides, I want her to be here when we get married!” she enthused onwards. “Oh, and the rest of the Black Eagles Strike Force must attend as well! I won’t have anyone missing out on it!”

Petra giggled and pressed her forehead to her girlfriend’s. “I would be liking that greatly,” she agreed.

As the night continued around the two lovers, the time for new beginnings approached. It would not be long now until their lives were to change completely, and for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is short BUT... next chapter's prompt is "Pride" and it'll be the moment you've all been waiting for!
> 
> i can't promise i'll get all the chapters out consecutively BUT they will 100% be done by the end of april.
> 
> thanks for reading! leave a kudo and a comment if you enjoyed, as always :).


	13. Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the moment you have all been waiting for!

If Dorothea hadn’t been so very pregnant, she would have flung herself into Manuela’s arms the moment she saw her exiting the grand ship waving the red and gold flag of Adrestia from its mast. Instead, she opted for a huge grin and an excited wave in her direction, which caught her former teacher’s attention almost immediately. 

“Manuela!” Dorothea called out with glee, “it’s so good to see you!”

Manuela didn’t look any different from when they had last seen each other around a year ago, aside from maybe a few more wrinkles on her aging face, but Dorothea would never dare point that out to her. She was wearing her usual revealing green dress, though Dorothea predicted that she would soon have to shed that outer white coat she was so very fond of. Even though it was the middle of the Red Wolf Moon and winter had begun, Brigid was no place for the chilly temperatures of Adrestia, and the climate was comparable to a summer’s day in Fódlan. 

“Oh, Dorothea, dear!” Manuela greeted with a smile. She immediately hustled towards her former student as fast as she could, given she was carrying an overstuffed bag that looked plenty heavy. She plopped it down upon the pier before wrapping her arms around the younger songstress’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug. 

Dorothea’s protruding stomach made it rather difficult to embrace her mentor, and the position was a bit awkward, but she didn’t really mind. Perhaps the pregnancy was making her overly emotional, for a tear formed in her eye. “Oh, Manuela! I’ve missed you so much!” she gushed. “So much has happened since we last met, even more than what I’ve told you in those letters.”

Manuela pulled back from the hug and eyed Dorothea’s stomach curiously. “I can see that. You and Petra certainly been busy, haven’t you?” she teased with a knowing wink. “You’ll have to tell me  _ all  _ about it. Meanwhile, I haven’t even had a sliver of action! You’d think I’d have more luck after becoming one of the so-called ‘heroes’ of Fódlan… Men just have absolutely no respect!”

“You could say that again,” joked Dorothea. Really, how could she have ever thought she was attracted to men? “But we should get back to the castle. The physician told me not to be on my feet so much.”

“Yes, and right he is,” Manuela agreed. “Let’s have a nice chat while sitting down, hm? And maybe you could introduce me to some of the whiskey you have here…”

Oh, how her mentor hadn’t changed a bit! “Sure thing, Manuela. Just remember to stay sober when the delivery happens, all right?”

“Oh, of course, dear, of course.”

* * *

Having Manuela over was an absolute delight, even if Dorothea did have to spend most of the day chatting to her while bedridden. Manuela turned out to be a big fan of Brigid’s tranquil atmosphere, and quite enjoyed accompanying Petra to the beach for daily walks. She was also, of course, very enthusiastic about the various kinds of alcoholic beverages Brigid had to offer, but she had managed to stave off any desires to overdrink, surprising Dorothea. Perhaps she  _ had  _ changed since the war.

Manuela filled both Dorothea and Petra in on how things were fairing over in Adrestia. Edelgard and Byleth had thrown themselves into a brand new sort of war with Those Who Slither in the Dark, accompanied by Ferdinand, Hubert, and Caspar. Linhardt had decided to stay behind the lines and instead focus on his crest research. Apparently, he was devising a method in order to remove Edelgard and Lysithea’s crests, and he had made a fair bit of progress.

Of course, there were plenty of  _ other  _ rumors to discuss… like how Manuela had seen Edelgard sitting upon a balcony, Byleth nuzzled into her side, or how Ferdinand and Hubert had almost completely ceased their bickering and had settled into a suspiciously close friendship. Discussing such gossip with Manuela and Petra made Dorothea feel so very nostalgic for the peaceful days they had spent at the academy. It almost felt as though she was eighteen years old again, if not for the fact that she was  _ extremely  _ pregnant and so very far from Fódlan.

Dorothea hoped that Manuela would choose to stay for just a bit longer.

* * *

Dorothea went into labor on the eighteenth day of the Red Wolf Moon, just at the crack of dawn. She had woken up to ferocious pains, and Petra had immediately recognized all the signs. She had thrown on all her clothing at what felt like the speed of light and scrambled down the halls to wake everyone necessary up, including Manuela, the physician, the servants, and of course, her grandfather. 

Thankfully, everyone was already well prepared… well, for the most part.

“Dorothea, dear, I’m going to cast a spell on you to help deal with the pain, all right?” Manuela told her softly. She was seated upon a wooden chair at Dorothea’s side, giving her a strangely calm look. Usually, the older woman would be positively seething with rage over being woken up so very early, but this time, she seemed unperturbed. Not a trace of a hangover was present.

Dorothea flinched and nodded, teeth braced together and eyes shut tight. Labor had hardly begun, and the pain was already unbearable!

Petra sat on the opposite side of Dorothea, looking over her girlfriend with concern. She gripped one of her lover’s hands in her own, circling patterns upon it with the back of her thumb. “It is all right, Dorothea. I am here,” she assured her, her tone barely more than a whisper. “You can be squeezing my hand if the pain is too much.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, my love,” replied Dorothea. She peaked her eyes open and focused on her beloved’s worried eyes, giving her a pained but gentle smile. “You’re the best lover I could have ever asked for, and almost every day, I find myself wondering how I managed to snag such a catch...”

“Do not be silly! You are the love of my life, and I could not be imagining my life without you,” giggled Petra, eyes shining like stars as she admired her Dorothea. 

Despite the situation, Dorothea could not help but fluster, her cheeks turning a rosy red. Her beloved always knew just the right things to say in order to flatter her. “Oh, I love you  _ so _ much, Petra. You’re my everything as well, and I just can’t wait until—” Her sentence came to a halt as Manuela’s hands came to rest upon her arms, sending out pulses of tingling white magic. The strange sensation sent shivers down Dorothea’s spine and forced a gasp from her mouth, but dulled the stinging pain that wracked through her entire body. She visibly relaxed into the dozens of blankets underneath her, muttering thanks to Manuela. 

“Don’t get  _ too _ comfy, kid, we’re just at the beginning,” Manuela reminded her, “we’ve got plenty more hours to go!”

“I know, I know,” sighed Dorothea, well aware that the worst had yet to come. “After this is over, I’ll make sure you get a nice drink, all right? One of Brigid’s best!”

Manuela laughed. “That would be nice,” she agreed, “but maybe a nap would be better for my health.”

And so began what was possibly the most difficult hours of Dorothea’s entire life. She had fought in many battles, won a war that would surely be remembered throughout all of history, and yet, none of that could compare to the struggle of childbirth. When it came time for her to push, Dorothea was certain her screams could be heard all throughout the castle. She grasped Petra’s hand, squeezing it so hard that the princess swore that she could hear her bones cracking underneath. Though Petra flinched, she did not complain in the slightest. Instead, she leaned in closer to her lover, murmuring sweet, loving words into her ear.

“You are so brave, Dorothea,” she complimented, “right now, you are the strongest warrior in all of Brigid—erm… that is not being right… the strongest warrior in all of the world! I am impressed.”

Dorothea grinned weakly through the ordeal and nodded starkly. “You’re so sweet, my darling. I, ah—!!” A sharp cry sounded out from her throat as she felt a sensation akin to a knife twisting into her emanate from her abdomen. She was unable to prevent tears from welling up into her eyes, unable to stop herself from biting down upon her lip so hard that a speck of blood trickled down her chin. By the spirits, it  _ hurt _ …! 

“Just a bit more, dear,” Manuela encouraged. “The first one is almost there...!”

Dorothea summoned up all her strength and braced herself, and with one final push, a high-pitched baby’s cry rang out throughout the room. Manuela scrambled to swaddle the newborn child in one of Petra’s homemade blankets, and Petra herself nearly sprung out of her chair to get a look at the child. However, despite her burning desire to meet her new child, she remained dutifully at her lover’s side, who was not out of the woods just yet. 

Excitement bubbled in Dorothea’s chest, and her mind flooded with countless questions. What did her newborn look like? Was it a boy or a girl? Unfortunately, she did not have much time to ponder such things, because she could feel the second child coming. She braced herself once more and groaned in pain.

“Keep on going, Dorothea…!” Petra cheered, keeping her spirits high. “You are doing a good job! It will not be much longer…!”

“I-I’m… trying, oh spirits, it  _ hurts—”  _ she gasped out breathlessly. She clutched Petra’s hand harder than ever before and summoned up the might for one last push. Her efforts were rewarded with the cry of second newborn, and the servants hustling to tend to it. It too was wrapped in blankets but continued to wail alongside its sibling. 

Dorothea blinked, dazed. She pulled herself up to get a good look at Manuela and the servants attempting to hush the newly-born twins, and immediately felt a rush of worry. “A...Are they alright, Manuela?” she demanded. Her heart was jolting with panic. What if something had gone terribly wrong? What if one of them was dying, or both, or—

“Oh, they’re perfectly fine, Dorothea!” Manuela assured the worried mother. “They’re both perfectly healthy little girls!”

Girls… Dorothea’s heart fluttered. She had two little daughters! Petra leapt from her seat and bounded towards the servants, eager to see her children, but was stopped by a servant telling her something sharply in Brigaeli.

“Ah…!” exclaimed Petra. “I was nearly forgetting. They must be bathed…! I will be getting my grandfather at once!” With that, she scrambled out the door.

In all the commotion, Dorothea had nearly forgotten as well. There was a tradition for every newly-born Brigid baby to be bathed by their eldest living relative in purified ocean water, so that they could be blessed by the Water Spirit. That fell to the hands of the former King Macneary, who was waiting patiently outside. Two basins of purified ocean water had already been prepared for the occasion, resting upon a low table. 

Not moments later, the former king himself entered the room, followed by an eager Petra. He had a serious look upon his wrinkled face, his lips pursed together as his dusty pink eyes studied the two children. 

“Show me the firstborn,” he commanded Manuela in Fódlanese, holding his arms out. Despite his age, they still showed signs of the muscles he had built up in his youth. 

Manuela did not hesitate, and handed the sniffling little girl to her great grandfather. He took the baby gently in his arms and stared down at her, scanning each and every feature. Dorothea craned her neck to get a peek of the little one snuggled into the blanket her mother had made with such loving care. The old king did not fail to notice this gesture, and strode over to Dorothea’s side. Petra swiftly followed him and plopped back down beside her lover, and he lowered the little baby for her mothers to get a good look at.

The tiny little girl had stopped crying, and was looking curiously at her new surroundings with bright green eyes. Her skin was just a tad lighter than Petra’s, and even though she was born minutes ago, she already had little tufts of burgundy hair growing from the top of her head. Just once glance and Dorothea could tell without a shade of doubt that this child belonged to her and Petra. 

“She is having your eyes!” gasped Petra. 

“She has your hair color,” Dorothea commented gently.

The former king nodded. “She does,” he agreed. Then, all of a sudden, a wide grin broke out across the usually stern man’s face, illuminating it with joy beyond what Dorothea had ever witnessed from him. “This is, without a doubt, a Macneary child, and she is beautiful.”

Dorothea could barely hold her excitement. “Does… does that mean…”

“Yes. You have produced a proper heiress, and any doubts about you have vanished. You will make a lovely bride for my beloved granddaughter,” he declared.

Tears of happiness began to stream down Dorothea’s face. Happiness like no other overtook her, banishing all the worries that had built up over the last year. She could no longer take it, she burst into full on sobs. All the terrors she had gone through as a child, as an opera singer, as a general in a massive war had led up to this very moment, and it was now right here in her hands. Petra had a very similar reaction, for she too was unable to stop herself from tearing up. She practically leapt onto the bed and pulled her lover in for a tight hug, ignoring all else around her. Their lips crashed together in a powerful kiss. It was a kiss of joy, a kiss of passion, a kiss of  _ victory _ , and it tasted so very sweet. 

The old man chuckled at the sight. “I will begin the bathing of the first child, then.  _ Servants, show them their second child at once. _ ” 

Petra and Dorothea broke apart and sat up straight in the bed. As the king took the first child to the basin of ocean water, a servant approached them with their second baby, who had also stopped crying. The servant carefully placed the little girl in Petra’s arms, and the queen’s eyes sparkled with excitement. The tiny girl looked up at her mothers with wonder. This little girl was the spitting image of Petra, with dusty pink eyes and tufts of wine red hair. In fact, if Dorothea hadn’t just birthed her, she wouldn’t have ever known she was her mother at all! The only immediate discrepancy she noticed was the minuscule difference in skin color. 

“Oh, she looks  _ just _ like you, Petra,” whispered Dorothea. 

Petra’s eyes gleamed with pride. “She will be a proud Brigid warrior,” she decided. 

Dorothea’s attention turned towards her first daughter, who was making small little confused noises as she was dipped in the ocean water. Her great grandfather began to whisper a solemn prayer in Brigaeli, and though Dorothea tried desperately to understand, many of the words were lost on her ears. 

“He is calling upon the spirits of Brigid to protect her,” Petra explained in a hushed voice, so as not to startle the baby in her arms. “He is asking each spirit individually. The Flame Spirit must give her strength, The Wind Spirit must give her freedom, the Earth Spirit must give her protection, and the Water Spirit must give her health. After the bathing is done for both our children, he will be heading to the artist to receive new marks for them. Those will be messages to the spirits, asking to keep them well, even after he has passed.” 

“What about you, Petra?” Dorothea had to ask. “What about me?”

“I will also be receiving these marks, but I did not know if you were wanting them as well. Are you wanting them?” she inquired.

“Oh, yes!” Dorothea answered enthusiastically. “I’d love to, Petra, if you’ll let me. I know I’m an outsider and all, but—”

“ —You are an outsider no longer,” Petra interrupted her. “You are my lover, the mother of our children, and you will be my wife very soon. It would be giving me great joy if you were to receive the marks of our daughters as well!”

Dorothea’s heart felt ready to burst at the seams. How could she ever be happier than this? She had a beautiful lover, two children, and a loving home for the rest of her days. She leaned in to press another kiss to Petra’s lips, but before she could, they were interrupted by Manuela.

“Dorothea, dear. We have to finish and clean you up now,” her former teacher reminded her. 

Dorothea flustered, remembering what an unsightly state she was still in. “R-Right. Sorry, Petra,” she apologized. 

“You do not need to be apologizing. I will take our child to my grandfather to receive her bath,” Petra told her, and promptly stood to do just that.

The next hour or so was spent cleaning up Dorothea and their room. She was given a brand new gown to wear and the bedsheets were changed. After all was said and done, and the servants had left, Dorothea and Petra laid side by side in their bed, each holding a clean baby girl in their arms. The younger one slept in Dorothea’s arms, while the older one was staring up at Petra. 

“ _ You are beautiful, my daughter, _ ” Petra whispered in Brigaeli. “ _ You will grow up to be strong and healthy, and an excellent queen. I will protect you with all that I have. _ ”

It warmed Dorothea’s heart to hear her love speak so sweetly to their little one, and she nuzzled herself into Petra’s side. This moment was so precious, so tender… Dorothea found herself wishing that she could spend the rest of her life in such bliss. 

Their time alone did not last forever, however. Manuela pushed open the door, and the two mothers pulled themselves upright. The former teacher took her place at the side of the bed, a genuine smile adorning her withering features. 

“You two look so very happy,” she remarked. “I’ll admit, I’m a bit jealous. Not about the kid thing, mind you, I’ll  _ never  _ have kids, not in a million years, but… Well, I’m just happy everything turned out so fine and dandy in the end. There were moments I thought I’d never see a day like this.”

“Me too,” Dorothea replied, thoughts momentarily souring as she recalled some of her darker days in Fódlan.

Manuela seemed to pick up on this, and quickly shifted subjects. “Have you picked names for them yet?” 

Petra and Dorothea’s eyes met briefly, and then, they both nodded. “This one, the older one, is Eithne Macneary,” the queen revealed. “And the younger one is named Caoimhe Macneary. They are names of Brigid.”

“Eithne and Caoimhe, huh?” Manuela repeated. “Those  _ are _ gorgeous names, and I’m certain they’ll grow up gorgeous enough to suit them.”

Dorothea laughed. “Thank you, Manuela, really. Thank you for coming, and thank you for helping out. You really didn’t have to, after all you’ve done for me, but—”

“—Hush now, dear. You’ve done more for me than you could ever know,” Manuela returned, looking into her student’s eyes. For a split second, Dorothea could have sworn she saw the beginnings of a tear in one of her mentor’s eyes, but it remained unshed. “I like being here in Brigid, you know. Maybe I’ll stay a bit longer, Goddess knows there’s nothing waiting for me back in Fódlan.”

“You know, I’d like that, Manuela. I’d like that a lot,” Dorothea replied.

Nothing more was said between the three. They simply sat there, basking in the moment, marveling at the two new lives, born into days of peace. As Dorothea cuddled her little girl closer, she made a vow to protect her children with her life, to make sure that they never knew the hardships she or Petra had faced. They would spend all their lives knowing nothing but love, far away from the clutches of war.

What wonderful lives they’d have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I evaded writing the birth scene very graphically because.... well, it's gross, I didn't want to write it in detail, and I don't think many people wanted to read something like that anyways, so you all get this very vague depiction of labor. BUT what matters is that the girls are finally here! In the future, I might give them Adrestian middle names, and for that I'd love to hear suggestions!
> 
> So as always, let me know what you think! I have the next two chapters written but I might take a delay in posting the next one because I'd like for this one to sink in first + I need to write the next three and my muse hasn't come to me. Also let me know if there's anything specific you'd like me to write about with the babies.
> 
> Thanks as always! Keep enjoying Doropetra week!


	14. Aria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! Ive been so busy I haven't had the time to reply, but I will get to them as soon as I can! Rest assured I'm reading them all, and I'm SO THANKFUL for all of them!
> 
> Here's another short fluffy chapter for you all. Happy Doropetra week!

Just as Petra had expected, dealing with imperial nobility was absolutely  _ exhausting _ . Of course, there were plenty of nobles that Petra had managed to befriend during her time in the Empire, and Hubert had gone ahead and “purged” any of the overly-corrupt nobles such as Duke von Aegir, but there were still many who had concerns about the idea of an independent Brigid. 

After a long meeting with far too many stubborn nobles, Petra was completely exhausted. She was already sleep deprived from many nights spent wide awake with her two noisy daughters, but having to negotiate with a handful of stubborn Adrestians for hours was so terribly draining. When she finally left the meeting room, she was about ready to collapse on the spot and fall into the deepest slumber of her life. She avoided doing so, however, as the floor would not make for a comfortable spot to sleep, and hurried to her room.

As Petra entered the main hallway, she heard a faint but familiar voice echoing throughout. Curious and eager to take a look, she hastened her steps until she stood in front of her room. Through the wooden door, she could hear her lover singing in that gorgeous, clear tone of hers, hitting each high note with utmost perfection. Whenever Petra had the pleasure to hear her darling Dorothea’s singing voice, she always felt as though she was being sung to by the spirits themselves. 

But what was even more enchanting, more surprising, was the fact that Dorothea was singing  _ in Brigaeli _ .

Not wanting to ruin the moment, Petra stood there just a tad bit longer, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be lost in the familiar lyrics. It was a gentle lullaby—one that every single Brigid child knew—about a sailor who was lost at sea, and how he struggled to find his way home. Eventually, he heard the whispers of the Water Spirits, who told him to follow the stars in the sky, to look towards the Hunter’s arrow for shore. Sure enough, doing so led the sailor to shore, and he was reunited with his loving family. Strangely, Petra had not actually taught this song to Dorothea, which begged the question: when did she learn it?

Once the song faded into nothing but hums, Petra creaked the door open and slipped inside. She was met with the sight of her beautiful lover adorned in colorful Brigid gowns, cradling one of their daughters lovingly in her arms as she sat upon a cushioned chair. Their other little girl was snuggled up fast asleep in her cradle, covered by a warm deer hide blanket and handmade stuffed bear tucked in her side. 

Almost immediately, Dorothea looked up and smiled warmly. “Hello, my beloved,” she whispered. 

Petra carefully crept to her lover and child and sat on the chair beside them. She looked over Dorothea’s shoulder and saw Caoimhe's curious pink eyes staring up at her. She was now a week old, and the small tufts of burgundy hair had begun to sprout out and cover the rest of her head. Of the two babies, she was the more noisy one, tending to wake her mothers and her sister with her cries. 

“Hello, Dorothea. Hello, Caoimhe,” Petra greeted softly, her lips curving into a brilliant smile. 

“Hello, my beloved. I’m glad you’re back from your meeting. We have quite the eventful morning, didn’t we, Caoimhe?” As Dorothea spoke, she looked down at her younger daughter with sparkling eyes. “I know she’s usually loud, but my  _ goodness _ she was grumpy today. Luckily, I think I’ve found just the trick!”

Petra couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. She and Dorothea were meant to share their responsibility as parents equally, but her poor girlfriend had been left to deal with the brunt of the work. She would have to set aside time to let Dorothea have a break while she watched the kids on her own, or perhaps ask Manuela if she would be willing to watch over them while they had some peaceful time to themselves. 

“A trick…?” she repeated. “Was it your singing?”

Dorothea’s cheeks flushed with hints of pink. “Ah, so you  _ did  _ hear me after all,” she replied bashfully. “Oh, I do hope my Brigaeli pronunciation wasn’t terribly off. I was hoping to work on it a bit more and surprise you later, but…”

Petra shook her head. “Do not be worrying! You were pronouncing well,” she assured her. While there were a few common mistakes here and there, they were not terribly noticeable, and actually quite impressive for someone who had only begun seriously practicing the language a little over a year and a half ago. It definitely appeared that Dorothea was taking her studies very sincerely. “However, I am wondering. The song that you were singing is a lullaby of Brigid, but I was never teaching it to you. Where did you gain this learning?”

“Oh! Your grandfather taught me, actually, just a few days ago,” Dorothea answered.

“My grandfather?!” Petra exclaimed. Such a revelation was quite an interesting development, given how petrified Dorothea had been of him when they had first arrived in Brigid. It felt like just days ago she was fretting over winning his approval. “I was not knowing that he had spoken to you.”

“Ah, it was during one of your meetings. He came to check on his great grandchildren, and I was  _ trying _ to sing to them… so he offered to teach me one of the lullabies,” Dorothea explained. “He told me how it was a song that your father used to sing to you when you were little.”

Indeed it was. It had been many,  _ many _ years since she had last heard that lullaby, over a decade, in fact. Petra fondly recalled one particular instance, when her father had taken her for an overnight trip to the beach. They had spent the whole day fishing, and her father had even managed to catch an enormous Brigaeli red squid, which they cooked together upon a campfire. Petra had gotten a bit  _ too  _ excited over the catch and had stuffed herself with more than her stomach could agree with, and ended up with a nasty stomach ache. As she lay feeling absolutely awful upon the woven blanket she was utilizing as a bed, her father had sung that very song to her to ease her pain and lull her into a calm sleep. Though she had been distressed at the time, looking back upon such a memory warmed her heart.

If only her father was still here. He would have loved to meet his granddaughters and Dorothea. But there was nothing to be done about it. He was gone, and all she could do now was reflect mournfully, and hope tragedy like that never struck again.

“Yes. My father was singing many lullabies to me, but I am thinking that one is my favorite,” Petra decided. “I am loving how it sounds, and the story behind it. Whenever I am losing my way, I always look to the sky.”

“Oh? You’ll have to teach me sometime. I don’t really know too much about the constellations, and I’m  _ sure _ Brigid has different names for some of them,” Dorothea replied, looking rather interested in the notion. She rocked Caoimhe gently against her chest, and the tiny girl watched her mother with intrigue. “And I’m sure you’ll teach our daughters all about it as well.” 

“Of course!” Petra agreed wholeheartedly.

The discussion ceased, and the two lovers fell into a blissful silence. Caoimhe’s eyes began to droop as the calm atmosphere eased her into slumber. Dorothea lifted the little girl higher and placed a soft kiss upon her temple, which caused her to squirm slightly. Petra could not help but giggle a bit at the sight, and nudged her chair closer to her lover and child. She quietly admired how  _ stunning _ Dorothea looked, even now after childbirth had altered her usually slim figure. She was still perfectly radiant, and her emerald eyes were gleaming with unadulterated joy. For the first time in so many years of battling depression, she looked truly happy.

“Dorothea…” Petra whispered, not wishing to disturb her rowdy little one now that she had finally closed her eyes. “Can I be asking a favor?”

“Hm?”

“Will you be singing that lullaby again?”

Dorothea paused a moment, and then nodded. “Of course, Petra. Anything for you, my dearest.”

Dorothea took a deep breath in, and began to sing once more. Her tone was as soft as the gentle ocean’s waves, and flowed elegantly like a morning dove. A wave of nostalgia rushed through Petra’s entire being, and she closed her eyes, basking in the memories of her childhood. She thought back to being a tiny girl on her mother’s lap, watching quietly as she weaved a brand new colorful tapestry while humming old Brigid lullabies. She thought back to when she was just learning to hunt, and how she had accidentally shot her finger with an arrow and sobbed endlessly until her father sung to the spirits to make it all better. 

If she could give her children those sorts of memories, then that would make her the happiest woman in the whole world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is less of an "Aria" and more of a "Lullaby" but oh well, it's singing all the same.
> 
> And hey, thanks for reading this! I hope you're all enjoying Doropetra week. Remember, if you can't participate by writing or drawing or anything else, you can always participate by leaving a kudo or comment on a fanfic you liked, or retweeting art! I'm not just talking about my fanfic. There's lots of other wonderful fanfiction that's been posted that deserves the kudos and comments. If you're reading this, I encourage you to go share some love to the other authors out there!
> 
> I have the next chapter written but not the one after. Hopefully I'll be able to finish it in time but I do have some other prior commitments. There's a chance there will be a short delay and I won't be able to get all the chapters out on time, but they'll definitely come by the end of April (hopefully way sooner).


	15. Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: This chapter has nudity and implied sexual content.

A brief chill tickled Petra’s skin as she trudged alongside the ocean’s shore, the stars above sparkling like gemstones amongst the night’s sky. Brigid was normally known for its scorching temperature, however, not even it was free of the chills brought on by the Ethereal Moon. It was nothing compared to the time she and the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force had invaded the Kingdom, but nonetheless, it was enough to send a shudder down the queen’s spine. She stopped in her tracks and took a deep breath in, allowing herself to drink in the atmosphere. There was just something that felt  _ magical _ about the way the clear waves reflected the shimmering blue moon, the stars painting the ocean with speckles of light. The gentle, cool tide tickled Petra’s bare feet as it expanded to the shore before receding, leaving behind foamy bubbles in the sand.

Yes, it was a beautiful night to have free. 

Despite having claimed that she was only going to spend a week at most in Brigid, Manuela was still around, and had graciously offered to look after the children while Dorothea and Petra had their first night to themselves since the birth of their daughters. At first, Petra was a little taken aback by the idea. Manuela didn’t exactly have the best opinion on children,  _ especially _ babies as young as the twins, but after learning that she did, in fact, have some experience taking care of them, she relented. As much as she loved her sweet daughters, it was nice to spend time outside the castle, free of her obligations.

Except... that wasn’t entirely true. In fact, Petra  _ did _ have one particular reason for visiting the beach, other than her own amusement.

A tiny twinkle in the sand caught her eye, and she bent down to investigate. Her fingers raked through damp sand until she had uncovered a shining piece of green sea glass. A satisfactory grin found its way upon her lips as she pocketed it in the little bag that hung from her waist. Sea glass was a speciality of Brigid, as it would occasionally find its way upon the shore as a result of numerous shipwrecks from the stormy summer conditions. Many jewelers and crafters often paid huge sums of gold for genuine sea glass, but Petra preferred to scour for it herself. Half of the fun was the hunt, after all. Besides, this was completely  _ her _ project and no one else’s. Yes, the ring she intended to create was to be made by her hands alone.

“Did you find something, Petra?” Dorothea’s voice rang out from behind her, and Petra startled. She quickly sealed her bag shut and turned on her heel.

“Ah, I was looking for a clam, but I was not able to be finding one. It buried itself too quickly,” she fibbed. Petra usually was not the type to lie, but when it came to the matter of surprising her girlfriend, she would break her personal vow of honesty. 

“Oh, I see,” Dorothea replied. She stepped beside Petra and glanced down at the spot she had been digging. “That’s unlike you. You’re usually the master at foraging for clams!”

Petra shrugged. “Sometimes, it cannot be helped. Besides, I am thinking I have collected enough clams. In hunting, fishing, or foraging, it is important not to be taking more than you need. If I were to be taking all the clams, then the people who are relying on the beach to eat would starve,” she explained. 

“Wow, how I  _ wish _ people in Adrestia had that sort of mentality,” sighed Dorothea, twining a lock of brown hair around her finger. “Might solve all the people dying in the alleyways. Hopefully Edie has some sort of plan in place to stop all those greedy nobles from stealing food from the common folks.”

“Yes. There are still many who are homeless in Brigid, but if they are able to hunt, then they can still survive. That is why every child of Brigid must be learning how to hunt and fish at a young age.” Petra looked out towards the open ocean, watching as the waves spilled forth onto the beach once more. From underneath the sand, pockets of air began to bubble up, indicating the presence of life underneath. 

“Well, I’ll leave the teaching to you. If I were the one teaching the kids, they wouldn’t even be able to catch an Airmid Goby!” joked Dorothea with a small, sharp laugh. Indeed, she had never been able to catch even a single fish whenever she joined Petra on her fishing trips. Once, she had managed to hook a big one, and had nearly fallen face first off the dock into the ocean when it fought back against her. She had later admitted she hadn’t been expecting a fish to be so strong.

Petra giggled at the memory. “Do not be worrying. I will teach them,” she assured. “One day, you too will be catching a fish. I am determined to teach you as well!”

“Ah—That’s very kind of you, my dear, but—” Dorothea hesitated at the idea, her cheeks lightly tinted pink. “A...Anyways, we’re here now and we don’t have any fishing equipment, so… Was there anything you wished to do besides walk?”

Petra thought for a moment before answering: “I would like for us to go for a quick swim.”

Dorothea blinked at the answer. “Did you bring a swimsuit? I… didn’t. I can’t say the swimsuit you got me before fits me right now,” she commented, glancing down at her figure. She was currently clad in a bright red dress spun from Brigid silk, and decorated with symbols of the sea. Her usual Adrestian clothing didn’t support her postnatal figure, and she had taken to wearing dresses she had bought at the Brigid marketplace. Although Petra always found her girlfriend to be stunning, there was just something about seeing her in the clothing of Brigid that took her breath away. 

“No, but that is not being an issue,” she insisted. “We are alone, after all.”

“Wait, you mean—” 

Without further warning, Petra began to remove her necklaces and unhooked her top. She wandered towards a lone palm tree and placed her discarded clothing in a neat pile underneath, all while Dorothea watched unblinkingly in surprise. Now half-naked from the waist up, Petra turned back toward her lover and smiled. 

“No one will be coming at this hour, and even if they were, they would not be bothering us or staying for long,” she reassured her apprehensive girlfriend. 

“Well, I’m certainly not opposed…” replied Dorothea, a mischievous smile creeping its way upon her face.

Petra rid herself of her skirt and stockings and watched as Dorothea undressed. When they were both free completely of their clothing, Petra took Dorothea’s hand in her own and eagerly guided her towards the waiting ocean. The queen wasted not a moment longer and stepped into the waves, until she was far enough out to lift her legs from the ground and let the water carry her. She looked into the glittering moon sitting upon the horizon and swam out towards its light, as though she was seeking to touch it. Dorothea followed behind her, albeit a bit slower, as she was not nearly as an experienced swimmer as her lover. Luckily, the ocean was calm and near still, and posed little difficulty to the Adrestian woman. Petra turned and allowed Dorothea to catch up to her, and when the gap between them was closed, the huntress swept her beloved into her arms.

“Petra!” gasped Dorothea, and Petra giggled.

“I could not help myself,” she replied with a guilty smile. “In the water, you are looking like, ah… like a mermaid.”

“A mermaid?” Dorothea repeated, unfamiliar with the term.

“Mermaids are creatures of legends in Brigid. They are women who have the tail of a fish instead of legs, and they live underneath the water. In stories, they are having beautiful singing voices,” Petra elaborated, recounting the various tales her mother had read to her as a child. Some of them had even been illustrated with gorgeous ink paintings of the creatures in question, and though it had been many years since she had last read a child’s fable, she could still recall them vividly. They were not unlike the woman before her, wet skin and long hair glistening with the moon’s reflection. Her green eyes were simply  _ glowing _ in the light of the moon, and the sight felt near hypnotic, like she was falling further and further in love with each passing second. She hadn’t even known such a thing was possible, for she already loved Dorothea more than anyone else in the world. “Sometimes, they are using their voices to ah, charm people, to capture the heart of their beloved…”

Dorothea’s face broke into an enormous grin, and she ran her hand down her beloved’s back. “What an excellent idea those mermaids have. I personally am an advocate for such techniques! In fact, I’d go as far as to say I did the very same to capture the heart of  _ my _ darling,” she boasted, chest puffed out with pride. 

Petra leaned in closer, allowing their foreheads to bump together. Her grin mirrored Dorothea’s own, and she twined her arms around her back. “Oh? You are thinking you have me charmed…? I would love if you were proving that to me...” she challenged.

“Absolutely, my darling,” whispered Dorothea, her breath tickling Petra’s lips.

Without a moment’s hesitation, their lips pressed together. Dorothea pulled Petra tight against her as they melted into a fervent kiss. The moon high above shimmered down upon the two lovers as though it was a spotlight and the ocean was a stage, and Dorothea and Petra were the two protagonists of its opera. The lull of the gentle waves was their love song, and there was no audience but the stars themselves. It felt as though the entire world around them had converged solely upon just them and their kiss, like nothing else mattered in the whole of history except for this sole moment in time.

The magic was broken when a stray fish brushed up against Dorothea’s leg, startling her. She pulled back with a brief look of panic that immediately faded when Petra burst into hysterical laughter.

“I… Sorry, Petra!” she apologized.

But Petra did not stop laughing, not for a good few seconds. She had no idea why the situation was so hilarious to her, but her chest kept heaving with giggles. Growing up swimming in the seas of Brigid, she had long ago grown used to the presence of fish, she had not once considered the touch of one surprising. When she had finally calmed down, she merely shook her head and wiped a small tear that had formed from her eye. “It is fine, I am not minding.”

“I guess it  _ is _ getting late, anyways. I promised Manuela I wouldn’t be out past ten,” Dorothea pointed out, scratching the tip of her chin. “Maybe we should start heading back…”

“Oh? But we have just started swimming, besides…” Petra leaned in closer to her lover, hovering her lips centimeters away from her ear, “I am wanting to do much more with you…”

Dorothea blushed at the suggestive comment. “Well, I… oh, Petra. Maybe it’s  _ you _ who has charmed me. I just can’t resist when you put it like that…” she breathed.

“Then let us be continuing from where we left off, before the fish was rudely interrupting us…” Petra whispered, fingers sliding down her lover’s body.

Dorothea shivered, and nodded eagerly. “Yes, let’s,” she agreed.

By the time they returned home, it was already well past ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just to let you all know in advance, I probably won't have the next chapter up tomorrow. I haven't written it yet and to be honest, I'm struggling with coming up with a prompt for "Bravery." I did HAVE an idea and I tried to write it, but it just kinda fell flat and didn't work with me. But I hope these last four chapters can hold you over for a bit longer.
> 
> I do hope you liked this chapter. And I just want to remind you all that right now, leaving a kudo is more important than ever. And I don't just mean on my works, no, I would really love it if you could leave a kudo on all the other Doropetra week works that you've read thus far. Due to AO3's increased traffic, they have disabled hits from logged out users, meaning that all of us authors are going to have a sharp decrease in hits, which can be VERY discouraging. So please, leave a kudo on any fic you enjoyed!
> 
> That's all from me today, remember I'd love to see a comment on what you thought of this chapter! I don't have time to reply to them all yet, but I absolutely will get to them soon and I AM reading them and loving them thus far!


	16. Bravery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well turns out I lied, I DID manage to get this chapter out on time. Can't promise I'll have the next one up in time though.

Something wasn’t right.

Dorothea had harbored an odd feeling ever since she woke up at the early hour of four in the morning to feed her screaming daughters, but she could not put a finger on what exactly it was. Nothing felt particularly _ different _ compared to how the last few weeks of her life had been. Settling into motherhood had been strange, at first. Two babies to look after meant they needed twice the attention, and when one started to wail, the other one would surely follow suit. Dorothea had to remain almost constantly by their side in case they needed to be fed, resulting in her rarely having the opportunity to venture outside the castle. Thankfully, Manuela was still present and willing to look after the infants in short increments, though sometimes she ended up spending time with them for longer than she had ever intended.

That very morning, Dorothea had the urge to stretch her legs and go for a stroll in the market. She needed to purchase some new clothing for herself regardless, so she decided to capitalize on the opportunity. Her intention was to leave Petra with the children, but after her girlfriend and insisted on tagging along, Manuela had once again offered to look over them.

“But Manuela, didn’t you use to tell me how much you _ hated _ children?” Dorothea asked. She looked at the little sleeping Eithne swaddled in blankets cuddling into Manuela’s arms. 

Manuela’s cheeks tinted a light pink, and she laughed. “Maybe I’m just getting too old, dear. But I don’t mind looking after your kids. They’re good, considering they’re babies.”

Dorothea waved off the underhanded compliment, knowing that her mentor was trying not to be true to her feelings. Manuela had always been a little bit stubborn like that, and it didn’t bother her. “Well, I’ll just be thankful you’ve stuck around as long as you have. Goodness knows I’d never be able to leave the castle if it weren’t for you,” she joked. “I won’t be long this time, I promise, not like the beach. I’ll be back in an hour tops, all right?”

“Very well, dear. I’ll be waiting here.”

With that, she had set off towards the main square, where the markets were located. As always, many colorful stalls had been erected and stocked full. Merchants called out to curious customers, hoping to garner some attention to their wares, which consisted of everything to freshly farmed fruits to expertly crafted tapestries. Whenever she and Petra approached the marketplace, the vendors would eagerly attempt to flag them down, for everyone wished for the opportunity to say that the queens had purchased one of their very own creations, and today was no different. 

Dorothea was always interested in browsing each stand and investigating every dress they had to offer. The apparel of Brigid was so very different from Fódlan, with most articles of clothing possessing numerous vivid colors. Petra always insisted that Dorothea looked striking in Brigid clothing, and she certainly felt so. It was such a far cry from what she was used to wearing, but it was ages more comfortable than the stuffy corsets she had been forced into when she was in the opera.

One particular dress had caught Petra’s eye, and she was conversing in quick Brigaeli with the tailor, a middle-aged woman with many tattoos decorating her arms. Dorothea recognized them from a book as marks traditionally received upon childbirth, so she could only imagine that the woman was a mother to many children. She had a newfound respect for such women who braved childbirth multiple times, as just once had made her never want to go through such torment again. 

But Dorothea found herself unable to pay attention to the gorgeous wares in front of her. All she could focus on was a sudden feeling of apprehension that had swollen up in her stomach, followed by the erratic thumping of her heart. She could feel a sinister gaze upon her back, like a predator hunting its prey. 

Back when she had been the star of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, she had grown a keen sense of her surroundings. There were always horrid men who stalked her, tried to pounce on her when they thought she was most vulnerable. She had survived plenty of attempted kidnappings and murders thanks to her own strength and an ability to sense when danger was lurking around the corner. It had been a long time since she had felt such foreboding dread, but the tingling, icy feeling slinking up her spine was impossible to mistake for anything else.

When she turned to investigate, she found only a crowd of regular citizens watching her in awe, whispering gossip amongst themselves. She darted her gaze back and forth across the bustling marketplace, clenching her hands into tight fists as she took in every nook and cranny. Children shouted in delight as they chased each other in wild circles throughout the square, while parents watched on with laughter. Many happy couples were sitting at the tables with plates of food, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes without a care in the world. There was nothing out of the ordinary in sight.

That was, until Dorothea noticed a shadow behind a coconut tree at the very corner of the square, the outline of a cloaked figure just barely poking out from behind its trunk.

Without turning away, she tugged on Petra’s hand, startling her. 

“What is wrong, Dorothea—” 

“_ Shh… _ Someone’s watching us,” Dorothea whispered.

Petra gave the vendor a quick apology before turning around. She blinked a few times in confusion, scanning the area. “I am not seeing—_ ah. _”

Like Dorothea, Petra possessed unparalleled awareness. When she had been a member of the Black Eagles Strike Force, she was often stationed as a quick and brutal assassin, infiltrating behind the enemy’s frontline and killing soldiers before they even had the chance to see her. At night, she would jump upon her wyvern and scout out any potential enemy assassins looking for an opportunity to dispose of Edelgard in her sleep. It was no surprise that it took her only moments to spot the potential enemy.

“An assassin?” Dorothea suggested. Petra had once told her about how she had been the target of assassination plots in the past, and though there had been no such incidents since returning to Brigid, she could not ignore the possibility. 

“I am thinking—”

It appeared as though the figure had noticed that they were spotted, for they slipped back behind the tree and vanished altogether. Dorothea felt a lump grow in her throat, felt her teeth grind together. If it really was an assassin, she couldn’t allow them to get away!

“I’m going,” she told Petra, and before her girlfriend had even the opportunity to react, she sprinted off in the direction of the figure. 

She pushed her way through the confused crowd and ignored Petra’s protests, narrowing in on the coconut tree. The shadowy assassin startled and abandoned the idea of hiding when they noticed they had been spotted. They were covered from head to toe in a loose-fitting plain black cloak, their face masked by the shadow of their cowl. After a brief moment of hesitation, they took off running as fast as their long legs would carry them, but despite their speed, Dorothea did not lose heart. She followed them close behind through the streets, and the concerning sight was enough to incur shouting from the crowds of people.

“_ An assassin! An assassin after the life of the queen _!” cried a man, and that was enough to start a flurry of panic. Some citizens screamed out in fear and fled the marketplace, others ducked behind stalls and underneath tables to hide themselves, and a few grabbed whatever could be utilized as a weapon. Some even joined Dorothea in the chase, spouting out threats for daring to even try to lay a hand upon the queen.

Without any warning, the assassin turned upon their heel. They withdrew a dagger from the sleeve of their cloak within the blink of an eye and charged straight at Dorothea. 

Dorothea had little time to react. She halted in her tracks and lifted her hand, which flared with sparks of lighting. She summoned forth all her strength and allowed a powerful Thoron to spill from her fingertips. It crackled loudly enough to shake the ground beneath her as it shot out like an arrow towards its victim. The assassin let out a high-pitched squeal as the lighting spell struck them, forcing their whole body to convulse unnaturally. The scream died quickly upon their lips as they tumbled backwards to the ground with a thud, the dagger dropping unceremoniously at their side.

He was dead.

Dorothea took a deep breath in. She had hoped to never claim the life of another after the war’s end, had vowed to herself to avoid any future bloodshed. All the horrors she sought to rid herself of suddenly rushed back to her, making her stomach bubble with nausea. _ It was me or them, _ she reminded herself with a deep breath. This assassin had charged at her with the intent to kill. She shouldn’t show remorse to anyone who sought to ruin the happiness she had finally achieved.

“Dorothea!” Petra’s voice cried out from behind her. The crowd parted to allow the queen to catch up to her girlfriend, and once she had, she threw her arms around her back and pulled her into a tight hug. Dorothea could feel the intense pounding of Petra’s heart upon her back, and she shuddered. “Are you being hurt!? Please do not do that ever again!”

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” assured Dorothea with a breathless voice. “I… I killed him.”

Petra pulled herself from her girlfriend and stared down at the lifeless figure. A circle of people had formed around the body, and frantic mutters buzzed through the air. She dropped to her knees before the corpse and pulled back upon its cowl, revealing the assailant’s face.

He looked young to Dorothea, with no visible signs of aging nor wrinkles upon his smooth, pale face. His brown eyes were bulged wide with shock, and his mouth hung open. Underneath his eye lay a crooked orange mark reminiscent of Petra’s that looked as though it was fading off of him. Immediately, Dorothea thought that whoever had tattooed him had done an absolutely awful job of doing so, but she soon realized something was off. 

Petra’s face boiled with rage. “That is not a mark of Brigid,” she explained, anger in her tone. She ran her hand across the mark and revealed its true nature: paint that now stuck to her finger. “He was trying to disguise himself by making his own mark, but no one from Brigid would be fooled by such a fake. The marks of Brigid are given by artists who have been training their entire lives, and each one is having a special meaning behind it. Each line and dot is meaning something different, a language only the spirits can be reading, but this one is meaning nothing. To be making such a fake mark is an insult to Brigid and the spirits!”

“How disgusting,” Dorothea grumbled, feeling any sympathy she may have had for the assassin evaporating. “He’s obviously from Fódlan, then. I’ll bet some arrogant noble from Adrestia sent him here.”

Petra nodded in agreement. “It is possible that he was sneaking over on one of their ships. But I am wondering _ why _ he was sent…”

The queen went to work investigating the corpse, removing his cloak to reveal typical, cheap Adrestian attire. She stuck her hands in her pockets and retrieved a few hidden daggers, but couldn’t find any note upon him nor clue to his identity. Frowning, she stepped back from the corpse and shook her head. 

“I will have to send a letter to Edelgard,” Petra decided. “But we must be careful. It is having possibility that there are more assassins.”

That thought made Dorothea shiver. “You don’t think… You don’t think anyone tried to attack the castle, right?”

Petra stiffened. “I… we must be heading back, now.”

Anxiety like no other clutched Dorothea’s heart, which began to pound rapidly against her chest. What if someone had gone after her children!? Even though Manuela was there to protect them, there was only so much that she could do, and Dorothea was _ pretty _ sure she hadn’t left her with any weapons. If there was even a sliver of a chance that her babies had been harmed, she _ had _ to go back right now.

“Yes,” Dorothea agreed.

* * *

By the time they had arrived back at the castle, Dorothea was in a full on panic. She wasted no time in flinging the door open and barreling down the hallways, ignoring the alarmed servants. She did not stop for even a second until she reached the door to her room, and when she did, she barged in without knocking.

The sight that greeted her was… surprising, but not for the horrible reasons she had thought. Manuela was sitting upon a chair, rocking a tiny little girl in her arms while humming to her, adoration shining in her eyes. 

“Aren’t you just adorable? Your Auntie Manuela will take good care of—Dorothea!?” she exclaimed. She jolted up straight and cleared her throat. “Is… is something the matter?”

Dorothea took a deep breath in and drank in the scene before her. Then, she started to laugh hysterically, partially with the hilarity of seeing supposed child-hating Manuela cooing at a tiny baby and partially with relief. She clutched her stomach as she doubled over with cackles, tears brimming her eyes. 

“Oh thank _ goodness _!” she sighed.

Once she had managed to calm down, Dorothea took a seat beside Manuela and explained what exactly had happened. Petra joined soon after, looking visibly relieved that no harm had befallen her children. All the while, Manuela cradled little Eithne to her, and Petra swept up a confused Caoimhe in her arms. 

“An assassination, huh?” Manuela commented. “He must have been surprised to realize the beloved Dorothea Arnault wasn’t such an easy target. Really, he should have known better.”

“Yes, he was kind of sloppy,” Dorothea remarked, thinking back to the event. A well-trained assassin probably wouldn’t have hesitated nor panicked as much as he had. “Either way, I’m glad that nothing happened here, and that the children are safe.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that, dear! As long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone touch a hair on their head,” Manuela assured her with a confident grin. 

“I’m sure _ Auntie Manuela _ will do a wonderful job of protecting them,” Dorothea teased, a sly grin forming on her face.

Petra blinked. “Auntie Manuela?” she repeated. “You are wanting to be their aunt—”

“—Oh please, Dorothea, don’t mention it, I’m already plenty embarrassed as it is,” replied Manuela. She scratched her pink-tinted cheek and evaded her student’s gaze. “Really, I think I’m just getting too old.”

Petra looked between the two other women and tapped her chin. “I am not thinking there is any shame. If you were to be their aunt, that would be giving me great joy. You are always having a place to stay here with them in Brigid, if you are wanting,” she offered. 

Manuela laughed awkwardly and tucked a stray gray hair behind her ear. “I’ll give it some thought, dear.”

The conversation devolved into idle chatter between the three women, and Dorothea could feel all the anxieties that the day had brought melt away in an instant. If there were any assassins out there who wanted to make an attempt on the lives of her children, then they would have to get through their protective mothers first, _ and _ their capable aunt. 

That would certainly be a tough, if not impossible task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, what do you think? Do you want Manuela to stick around?
> 
> As for the assassin... hehe, well, we'll get back to that plotline pretty soon :). I wonder who could have possibly sent him? Lemme know what you think...
> 
> Hope you all have been enjoying Doropetra week thus far, and what I've had to offer you! Hopefully I'll be able to deliver another chapter to you by tomorrow. Enjoy!


	17. Fragile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a day late getting this chapter out and I'll probably be even more late getting the next chapter out, because there's A LOT I have to consider before writing it, but I hope you enjoy regardless.

Petra was a very busy woman.

With two children to look after, an entire country to rule, and more than a dozen Adrestian nobles to deal with, Petra barely got any leisure time to herself. From the moment she woke to the second she went to bed, she would bury herself in her duties and work diligently upon treaties, so that Brigid may finally call itself a free country. Some nights, she would stay up until midnight working, and come back to her room to find her wife and children already sound asleep. It was quite a handful, but Petra was not one to break from stress, not when her dreams of seeing her country finally flourishing free from the empire’s reins were nearly at fruition. 

Eventually, however, all the late nights spent awake and the days spent speaking with Adrestian nobles took its toll upon her, and she fell terribly, terribly ill.

Petra laid in her bed, covered by a multitude of sheets while her chest heaved up and down. Her cheeks were flushed painfully red, and drops of sweat were trickling down her forehead. Her stomach churned with nausea and she shifted uncomfortably on her side. She hated the feeling of being so terribly weak, so vulnerable,  _ especially _ when there was work she was supposed to be doing. A handful of Adrestians were waiting to have a meeting with her, and here she was, stuck in her bed!

“Don’t worry about those nobles,” Dorothea whispered to her girlfriend as she brushed away a sweat-slick lock of hair from Petra’s forehead. She sat next to the bed upon a chair, eyeing her with a concerned look. “Just get some rest for now, all right? I’m sure they can handle waiting a few days.”

Petra buried her face into her pillow in frustration. “Even so, I am hating this feeling. There is much more that I am needing to do!” she complained. 

“You work yourself too hard, my beloved. I knew that you were going to end up sick at some point,” Dorothea sighed. 

“That is because the future of Brigid is resting on my shoulders. It is up to me to be giving Brigid and all of its people freedom,” Petra reminded her lover, “I have been busy with negotiations, and investigating.”

Ever since the attempted assassination two weeks ago, Petra had been exchanging letters back and forth with Edelgard. Both the Empire and Brigid were working together to identify the assassin and the person who had sent him, and so far, they had yet to find many leads. There had not been anymore threats to the life of the queens or their children, but Petra was still worried, and angered. She was furious that someone would dare try to ruin her family, to destroy the happiness that she had created. As a result, numerous guards had been stationed outside of the castle, and every visitor was inspected for weapons. Whoever was responsible, she would make sure they would pay.

“Darling, I’m more than willing to help, you know,” Dorothea told her love gently. Her fingers combed through Petra’s hair lovingly, making the queen’s heart thump. “You know how much I hate those nobles, but if it’s for your sake, I’m more than willing to put up with them. Besides, I have quite a few tricks up my sleeve for pulling their strings!”

Petra knew well how talented Dorothea was when it came to manipulating the nobles into getting her way, but she had been hesitant to rely upon her wife. She was very busy as it was tending to their two needy daughters. Both little ones were fast asleep in their cradles for now, but such peace wouldn’t last for very long. Fussy Caoimhe was bound to start wailing at any moment, and when she did, Eithne was sure to be disturbed as well. Even with Manuela around to help, there were still certain duties only Dorothea was able to tend to. Petra did not want to force any more obligations upon her. 

“You are already looking after our daughters. I do not wish to be giving you more stress, my love,” Petra replied. 

But Dorothea did not wish to take that for an answer. She stood up from her seat and placed her hands firmly on her hips, determination blazing in her eyes. “Sorry, Petra, but I’ve already made up my mind. You rest for today, all right? I’ll call Manuela to take a look at you, and I’ll go talk to those nobles! Leave it all to me.”

“Dorothea—” Petra bit down on her lip, silencing any protests. To force herself to work now would be foolish, and only worsen her condition. Besides, they had long ago agreed to shoulder their burdens together. “All right, if you are having certainty.”

“I am certain, Petra. I’ll be back soon to check on the children, okay? Do rest well, dear.”

With that, Dorothea left. Petra closed her eyes and snuggled into the bed, feeling as though a large weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Thank goodness she had such a wonderful, capable lover to rely upon in times of need. 

* * *

After a brief check-up with Manuela, Petra had fallen into one of the deepest slumbers of her entire life. When she next woke, the sky outside was already dark and glimmering with the first twinkles of starlight. She pulled herself up and rubbed her eyes, feeling disoriented from such a long, undisturbed rest. Head spinning, she glanced at the two cradles, finding that her children were slumbering peacefully. Had they been resting the entire time, or had she managed to sleep through their cries?

She tugged the sheets off of her and moved to stand, but immediately froze in place when she heard a noise of clattering silverware outside of her room. There was some strange shuffling, and then finally, the door opened.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good!” Dorothea exclaimed.

Petra blinked and stared at her girlfriend, who was standing in the door frame with a platter in one hand. The unmistakable aroma of fresh squid wafted through the air, causing her stomach to rumble. 

“Is that… squid?” Petra asked. “You are bringing me dinner?”

“A little more than that, actually!” Dorothea began to explain. She hustled towards her lover’s side and sat the platter at their bedside. 

Rings of grilled Brigaeli red squid sat beautifully upon a blue dish, garnished with fragrant sauce and a variety of cooked vegetables. The appetizing sight made Petra realize that her nausea had melted away completely, replaced by hunger, intensified by the fact that she had not eaten since the day before. Her tongue darted out to lick her painfully dry lips, and she gulped. 

“Well, what do you think?” Dorothea asked, chest puffed out with pride. “I worked very hard on this, thank you very much! It took a lot of attempts to figure out  _ just _ how long to grill it for, and I do hope I didn’t burn any of the vegetables, but I think the result was worth it.”

Petra eyed the plate with surprise. “You… you made it?” she replied, bewildered. Usually, Dorothea’s attempts at cooking looked as though she had roasted it with a Bolganone spell, reduced to barely edible charred cinders. This, however, looked as though it had been made by one of servants. Sure, it wasn’t as professional as the food made by some of the personal chefs, but for someone of Dorothea’s caliber, it was astonishing. 

“Yes!” Dorothea revealed. “Oh, I wish I could say I caught it as well, that would have  _ truly _ been the icing on the cake. But anyways! I’ve been studying some of the recipes from the library, and even though I can only read about half of it, I think I’ve improved plenty from my last attempts.”

That was for certain, Petra thought as she recalled the disaster that had been her vegetable stir fry back at Garegg Mach. Why Byleth had chosen to have Dorothea assist her, she would never know, but the Black Eagle Strike Force had been sick for a good couple of days after, save for Dorothea herself. Petra swore her lover could stomach almost  _ anything,  _ aside from those horrific fried crayfish the dining hall served that only Jeritza and Hapi seemed to enjoy. Considering she had declared a hatred for fish during her academy days, she had adjusted extremely well to the primarily pescatarian diet of Brigid. Perhaps that quirk of hers stemmed from her childhood, but Petra had never asked, for she knew how painful it was for Dorothea to speak of her urchin days.

“It is looking wonderful, Dorothea!” Petra praised. “I cannot wait to be trying it.”

Petra took the platter in her hands and carefully balanced it upon her lap. She cut a small piece of squid off and brought it to her mouth, tentatively allowing the taste to settle in. It was cooked just right and still had heat to it, and the sauce was not overpowering and instead worked in harmony with the fishy squid flavor. She chewed it slowly, and when she swallowed, a warm smile made its way upon her face.

“Well? Do you like it?” Dorothea asked eagerly, eyes shining with hope. 

“Yes!” Petra declared. “Oh, Dorothea, it is wonderful!”

Dorothea giggled, and a warm blush crept its way upon her cheeks. “Oh, I’m so glad! Eat as much as you’d like!”

Despite how starved Petra was, she ate slowly, savoring the flavor of the dish. She was the perfect queen, and had impeccable table manners to boot. When she had finished, there was not even a lick left upon the plate. She wiped the corners of her mouth free of sauce and looked up at her lover, beaming.

“You have my gratitude, Dorothea!” Petra thanked her, “but you were not needing to do that at all!”

“Nonsense, Petra. I want to take care of you. You’ve already done more than you can possibly imagine for me, and I want nothing more than to do the same to you,” Dorothea reaffirmed, and sat herself down onto the bed beside her love. She gave Petra a gentle, caring look, eyes brimming with warmth. “I already told you before that you can rely on me for absolutely anything. I don’t want you to push yourself for our sake ever again, all right? From now on, we’ll both work towards an independent Brigid, together!”

Petra nodded enthusiastically. Even as the most powerful woman in all of Brigid, there was still a limit to what she was capable of, and she had been stretching herself far beyond that limit. She had a wonderful soon-to-be wife to rely on, and now, they would shoulder their responsibilities for all things equally. Besides, Dorothea was a valuable asset when it came to negotiations with the Empire, even though she had only been a commoner when she lived there. 

“Ah! That is reminding me. Were you speaking to the Adrestians?” Petra inquired, suddenly remembering the group of Adrestian Nobles who had been slated for a meeting with her that afternoon.

Dorothea’s eyes lit up with youthful enthusiasm, reminiscent of how she had looked when she was a student discussing gossip. “Oh, yes I was, and I have  _ lots  _ to share with you! You wouldn’t  _ believe _ some of the things they said!” she laughed. “First of all…”

For the next thirty minutes, the two sat sharing their grievances with the Adrestian nobility, until Caoimhe woke with a shrill cry. The two mothers then tended to their children, Petra rocking one and whispering to her in Brigaeli while Dorothea fed the other. Together, they were soon able to hush their little ones and lull them back to sleep. 

With the two of them working together as one, they were truly unstoppable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually never eaten squid before in my life.
> 
> Today is the last day of Doropetra week, but it definitely isn't over! Remember that submissions will still be open until the end of April, and even after we will be retweeting any Doropetra content onto [our twitter.](https://twitter.com/doropetraweek) Be sure to follow us there!
> 
> As always, all comments are appreciated! I hopefully will get to responding to them tomorrow. Thank you all for reading and participating in Doropetra week! And here's another reminder to please leave a kudo on the other fanfics, since AO3 is no longer counting views from users who are not logged in.


	18. Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am back with a much delayed update

“ _ Well, what do you two think?” _

A shining gold ring sat delicately in the palm of Petra’s hand, glistening in the rays of sun that peaked through the open balcony. The green sea glass cut into the shape of a diamond shimmered and reflected an array of stunning colors against the walls of the bedroom. 

Expectedly, there was little reaction from the two baby girls, both bundled up in their cradles. They merely stared at their mother sleepily, tuckered out from their long day spent keeping Dorothea busy with their cries. She was now on a much-deserved break wandering the marketplace alongside Manuela, leaving Petra to spend the evening with the girls.

“ _ I think your mother is going to love it, _ ” Petra told them both. “ _ At least, I hope so. _ ”

It had been over a month since the twins were born, and during that time, Petra had been hard at work creating the perfect ring for her beloved. Traditionally in Brigid, marriage proposals were not sealed with a ring. Instead, after two souls had been wed, they would receive matching tattoos. Dorothea was well aware of this; thus, Petra figured it would be a delightful surprise when she pulled out the expertly-crafted ring, a token to express only a mere fraction of Petra’s infinite love. 

Petra sunk into a seat opposite her two children, watching as their eyelids slowly closed. She felt a pleasant warmth in her chest at such a precious sight.

“ _ My little miracle girls, rest well. It is going to be a long night. _ ”

* * *

“Goodness! We bought much more than I had thought.”

A heap of fabrics consisting of many vibrant colors and intricate patterns dropped to the bedroom floor, and Dorothea let out a sigh of relief. She rolled her neck upon her shoulders with a satisfying crack and stretched her aching shoulders. Over an hour and a half of hauling around an accumulating collection of dresses had taken its toll upon the woman, and the much needed break was kindly welcomed. 

“I must say, there are many talented fashion designers here in Brigid,” remarked Manuela, who was carrying her own pile over her shoulder. “We could hardly help ourselves.”

Petra jumped from her seat beside her soundly resting children and approached the two women with an enthusiastic grin. “Welcome back! I see that you were having a good time in the market,” she commented as her eyes drifted over the mountain of clothing. 

“Yes!” Dorothea replied. “Oh, it was very busy today, and there was  _ so  _ much to see! We would have stayed there for much longer, but I couldn’t leave my babies for much longer.”

Manuela’s lips curved into a small smile. “I’ll not keep you any longer, then. I have to drop all this off in my room anyways, before my back decides to give up… have fun, you two!”

With a knowing glint in her eye and a small wink in Petra’s direction, the older songstress left. A puzzled look crept its way upon Dorothea’s face at the interaction, and the sly smirk upon her girlfriend’s face did not escape her notice.

“Alright, Petra, what are you up to?” she asked.

Petra smiled innocently. “I am not being ‘up to’ anything,” she insisted. 

“Oh, come on, I  _ know _ you’re hiding something. I can tell from that adorable smirk of yours,” teased Dorothea, inching closer to her girlfriend. Her fingers danced along Petra’s exposed collarbone, an action that caused her cheeks to flush with the faintest tint of pink.

“It is a beautiful day, and the skies are clear. I was hoping we could be seeing the stars together on the beach when it is dark,” Petra confessed with a pout.

Dorothea whistled at the idea, imagining the sheer romanticism of sitting side by side with her beloved upon the soft sands while the stars gleamed above them. When her love suggested something like that with such an adorable expression, how could she refuse? “That sounds lovely, dear. Let me just spend some time with the children first, I’m sure they’ll need to be fed soon.”

Petra’s eyes sparkled with joy, and she nodded enthusiastically. “We will be leaving when night falls,” she decided. 

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Dorothea took a deep breath of salty air as a light autumn breeze coursed through her hair, sending long brown locks waving through the air. Jade eyes full of wonder twinkled with the reflection of thousands of tiny stars illuminating the black sky. She could not help but be reminded of when she was a tiny orphan in the back alleyways of Enbarr, huddling under a thin and ragged blanket. On nights where she thought she would never wake, she would simply marvel at the stars and wonder if she would soon be up there amongst them with the Goddess. What would it be like, living in the sky, staring down and watching every little insignificant life try to find their path? She never got to find out, and for that, she was glad.

She squeezed her girlfriend’s hand and leaned into her side, resting her head upon her bare shoulder. She hummed lightly as her thumb slowly traced patterns on Petra’s soft skin. 

Petra placed a gentle kiss upon her lover’s forehead, her lips warm despite the cool autumn wind. “What are you thinking of, my beloved?” she whispered. 

“How lucky I am,” Dorothea answered. Her legs shifted against the sand beneath as she contemplated how she had gotten from being starved and nearly half beaten to death in a cold alleyway to the beaches of Brigid alongside the most wonderful woman she had ever met. Yes, she was lucky, but there were so many who hadn’t been: her mother, the other orphans she had met while scouring for food, the helpless village folks decimated by the fires of war. It was strange to think of all the people who had fallen victim in front of her very eyes, all while she had somehow survived against all odds. 

Dorothea’s eyes strayed briefly from the stars to the ocean. The waters were calm, and the waves rolled into the shore with a quiet roar. A small hermit crab scurried across the coastline as it sought to escape the rolling tide to no avail. She bit down upon her lip and shed the ever-present mask of courage she had forced herself to wear ever since she first stepped foot upon the opera stage. 

“I shouldn’t be here, Petra,” she admitted, her tone shaky and vulnerable. “I’ve watched so many people die… our own  _ friends _ . And yet, here I am. An orphan, tossed out upon the street by her hateful father. There were so many times I should have starved… so many times I should have bled out. I… just… I don’t understand why I survived.”

Petra did not reply for a moment. She sat there, mulling over her beloved’s words, pondering what to say next. When she finally spoke, she asked a simple question: “Why do you think?”

Dorothea shook her head against Petra’s shoulder. “I don’t know, I—… I’ve never really believed in anything. My mother was a religious woman, but after everything that happened, I… I could never believe in the Goddess. I never really thought about my purpose until… Until recently, I suppose. Is there some reason I lived, and the others died?”

“...Not everyone is needing a purpose, or a reason for surviving,” Petra said. “It is enough just to be living, I am thinking.”

Dorothea blinked, but before she could reply, Petra began to speak once more.

“You have done much in your life, Dorothea, and I have too. We have fought with Edelgard, and destroyed a great evil from Fódlan. Now, I am to be creating a new future for Brigid alongside you. This new Brigid that I have fought for is free from the Empire, and free of war. For Brigid, I will never stop working with hardness. That is my purpose, I have decided,” Petra spoke with confidence, her eyes gleaming like the stars and yet, burning with all their ferocity. “Here in Brigid, we are believing that everyone is born for a reason, and that the spirits will be guiding us to our chosen path, even if that reason is just to be living with happiness. But Dorothea, I am thinking that you have many reasons for living. To be bringing joy to all who watched you sing, to be fighting for and freeing Fódlan, to be protecting those who were not able to be protecting themselves, and…” She paused for a split second, and took a breath in. “...So that we could be meeting.”

“Oh yeah? You did tell me about the legends of soulmates in Brigid. Do you think we’re really soulmates, then?” she asked teasingly, a playful grin forming upon her face.

“Yes,” Petra answered without a moment’s hesitation, so confidently that it surprised Dorothea. “I have been knowing this for a long time. You are my soulmate, Dorothea, my everything…”

Dorothea had to take a deep breath in to prevent her heart from accelerating into a fever pitch. Even though they had been lovers for so long now, even though they had  _ children _ together now, to hear her Petra say such a thing so plainly, so assuredly was enough to draw tears.

Suddenly, Dorothea felt Petra’s muscles tense underneath her. She gently pushed upon Dorothea’s shoulder and slid backwards so that their eyes could meet. When Dorothea gazed into those dusty pink eyes, she saw nothing but pure, unadulterated love.

“Dorothea… there is something I wish to be showing you.”

“Oh?”

Petra slipped an arm down to the little pouch that clung to the belt upon her skirt, and retrieved a small, leather-coated box. A gasp slipped from Dorothea’s throat, for she knew well what it was. Petra popped the box open, and sitting upon a bed of white silk was a gorgeous, golden ring with glimmering green seaglass not unlike the color of Dorothea’s eyes.

“For a long time, we have been speaking of marriage. But I never got to ask you formally. My beloved, you are the most precious thing in the world to me. You enchant and fascinate me, and each day, you set my heart aflame. That is why I am asking you… Dorothea, will you please marry me?”

Even though a marriage to Petra was something she had always considered an inevitable part of her future, Dorothea was still taken aback. Her jaw hung slack in surprise, and her heart pounded against her chest as though it were trying to escape. “A… a ring? You… you got me a ring?” she whispered. “B-But, but Petra, you told me about how in Brigid, no one proposes with rings…”

“I am knowing this. But I wanted to be making one for you,” Petra insisted. “You have let me share the culture of Brigid with you, so I wanted to be doing something of Fódlan. Are you… not wanting it?” A brief look of hurt passed through Petra’s expression.

The sorrowful sight made Dorothea speak up instantly to remedy her mistake. “No! No, of course not, I… Oh, Petra, I  _ love  _ it, it’s gorgeous...” she gushed. She could no longer prevent her tears of joy from escaping, and allowed them to slide down her cheeks, bringing away her make-up alongside it. “And you  _ made _ it for me? I… I… oh, yes, Petra! Of course I’ll marry you!”

The two could wait no longer. Their lips came together in a fervent kiss full of passion, full of  _ need _ . Dorothea’s arms threw themselves around Petra’s back and pulled her in tight, allowing her body to melt against her beloved. High in the sky, the stars twinkled as though dancing to the rapid rhythm of the two lover’s heartbeats, while the ocean’s waves sang out to them. The two women lost themselves to the ardor of their kiss, and before they knew it, they had toppled over onto the ground, Dorothea beneath. Her hair splayed out upon the sand beneath and small grains clung to her exposed skin, but she found she did not care. She would take the time to get all of it out later. All that mattered now was the devout love between Dorothea and Petra, and the light tickle of the ocean’s breeze.

When they finally pulled apart, Petra shot her beloved Dorothea a radiant grin. “I am full of joy, my beloved. For the rest of our days, I will be filling your heart with joy, too. I, Petra, give you my promise! Spirits of Earth, please be guiding us home for all of our days. Spirits of Water, please be filling our cups with kindness and good fortune. Spirits of Wind, please be gifting us freedom and divine protection! Those are the words we are saying in Brigid when we are giving someone our promise.”

Dorothea giggled, and she felt her heart swell with adoration for her sweet Petra. “You are quite the charmer, you know? Is it possible you rehearsed for me?”

Petra’s cheeks quickly turned a deep pink. “Yes, I was practicing for many days.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to do the same!” Dorothea decided. “I’m going to practice a thousand different ways to tell you that I love you in Brigaeli, and I’ll tell you  _ all  _ of them on our wedding night…”

“I will be looking forward to it!”

Without any further words, the two lovers kissed once more. They stayed upon the beach for as long as possible, until they knew that they couldn’t keep Manuela up with the children any later. The long night continued on, until finally, it gave way to a brand new, promising future: one full of nothing but love and joy for the two women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, the proposal... and that leaves the wedding left! now, i have a question for you all. what would you like to see happen in this fanfic next? would you like me to skip forward to the wedding, or would you like some of their life in between, and if so, what would that entail? more moments alone? with petra's family? with their children? with manuela? should they visit other places in brigid? id really like to hear suggestions. 
> 
> and sorry for the late update. ive not been in a good mood at all. writers block has me in a chokehold and wont let me go. cant promise my updates will be regular from now on because im still battling depression and it's not getting too much better. but id really love it if you could kudo or comment my fanfic and let me know what you think + what you would like to see next, it would help a lot. 
> 
> thank you as always!


	19. Peaceful Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: i know nothing about babies.

The soft wail a grumpy child forced Petra’s sleepy eyes open. She stirred underneath her sheets as the haze of slumber slowly drifted away. She sat herself up in bed with a long yawn and stretched her arms high above her head. The otherwise pitch-black room was illuminated by a single candle that sat upon a nightstand by the childrens’ cradles, revealing the figure of her wife bent over her daughters. Dorothea had reacted faster than her to their cries, it seemed.

“Shh… hush now, Caoimhe,” whispered Dorothea. “You’ll wake your sister and mother, too…”

_ Too late _ , Petra thought to herself. She pushed her sheets aside and climbed out of bed, quietly tip-toeing to her wife’s side. 

“Oh, Petra! I didn’t realize you were already awake,” Dorothea exclaimed as she glanced up to meet the eyes of her wife, but only briefly. She turned her attention back towards the sobbing child before her. “Caoimhe is being a fussy little girl again. I think she’s just hungry. You can go back to bed, I won’t be long…” 

Petra shook her head. “I am already awake, my sweetest. It is my job to be taking care of our children as well,” she reminded her. 

“Alright, if you’re sure, Petra. I just don’t want you losing sleep when you have more conferences tomorrow,” replied Dorothea, a hint of worry in her tone. 

“I will be fine. Spending time with my fiancée and my children is not a loss of sleep!” Petra insisted with a reassuring smile. 

Dorothea gathered Caoimhe in her arms and cradled her, whispering soft, loving words to the child. She carried her to the couch, took a seat, and began to undo the top buttons of her nightgown. “Shh, come now, Caoimhe...” she hummed to her child as she adjusted her. After a little effort and squirming, the fussy girl’s bawling ceased completely as she began to nurse, and Dorothea smiled gently as her gaze fell lovingly on her beautiful daughter.

Petra soon noticed that all the commotion had awoken Eithne, who was quietly staring up at her mother with big green eyes. For a baby who was only a moon old, she was incredibly calm. “ _ I think you are already used to your sister being noisy _ ,” she commented with a small laugh. She lifted Eithne and bundled her up snuggly in the hand-made blanket. Once she was secure, Petra turned to join her fiancée upon the couch. She sat close to her, so that they were brushing against one another. The light contact was enough to make Petra’s heart thump with joy. 

“Oh, Eithne was awake? She didn’t make a peep. She’s such a well-behaved girl,” Dorothea admired.

“She is having great calmness. She will be making a good hunter one day, I am thinking,” Petra mused. She slowly rocked the little girl in her arms and admired her gorgeous eyes that reminded her so much of Dorothea’s. “ _ Isn’t that right, my little huntress? You will be an excellent queen, _ ” she cooed.

“Of course she will! She has the best teacher, after all,” Dorothea laughed as she gave her beloved a sly smile. “And I’m sure Caoimhe will learn. She’s only a moon old, after all.”

Petra’s eyes settled on the tiny baby snuggled into Dorothea’s breast. Her hair was beginning to grow, covering her head in a light layer of burgundy. Dorothea continually insisted that Caoimhe was her spitting image, and it made Petra wonder about her own childhood. Had she been fussy like Caoimhe, calm like Eithne, or perhaps a mixture of the two? It wasn’t as though she could ask her parents. Maybe she would have to ask her grandfather for some of those embarrassing childhood tales after all, just so she could recall those memories that were beginning to fade away. Perhaps he’d even be willing to share them with Dorothea now that he had begun to warm up to her.

“She has much growing to do, and we will be doing our best to help. I am hoping that our children will love us as much as we are loving them.”

“Oh, I think they already love us plenty! Caoimhe loves us so much she can’t  _ help _ but wake us in the middle of the night,” joked Dorothea. 

Petra laughed quietly and leaned into Dorothea’s side, nuzzling into her neck. The height difference between the two was minimal, but just enough so that Brigid queen could comfortably rest against her lover’s shoulder. She ran her fingers down Eithne's soft hair and pondered how tiny and delicate the little girl felt. Petra was a victorious warrior who had slayed countless enemies upon the battlefield, capable of slicing heads off with her heavy axe upon the back of a wyvern. She had to be extra careful not to hurt her tiny daughter, not to hug her too tightly or smother her in her blankets. If anyone were to harm a single hair on her children’s heads, she would mercilessly strike them down.

Dorothea shifted against Petra as she swapped Caoimhe to her other side and sighed softly. The rays of the nearly-full silver moon shone through the balcony window and illuminated the mother and child. Dorothea always seemed to sparkle in the light of the moon, Petra thought.

“ _ You are beautiful, my beloved _ ,” Petra whispered into her skin. “ _ You shine brighter than both the sun and the stars. I am glad you are to be my wife… _ ”

Dorothea’s cheeks tinted. “I… I understood most of that,” she replied with a short laugh. “I really have to brush up on my Brigaeli skills if I’m going to fulfill that promise I made to you. The children have taken up so much of my time! Of course, I knew that going into it. Being a mother isn’t easy in the slightest, but I’m glad we get to experience this together.”

“Yes, it is giving me great joy that we are having our own family,” agreed Petra with a wistful smile. She had spent so many years all alone in a foreign land, far from any semblance of a family. These small, tender moments together with Dorothea in her children were some of the brightest in her life, even if it was absurdly late at night. It was a small sacrifice.

A few minutes of pure silence went by. Caoimhe finished nursing and was handed off to Petra while Eithne got her turn. Caoimhe was quiet now that she had gotten what she wanted, and content to simply rest against Petra’s chest and stare into her eyes. Petra leaned to place a kiss to her forehead, and the girl squirmed a bit in response. 

“ _ Have you calmed down now, my fussy girl? You are always giving your mother and I a hard time! _ ” she chided her. 

Expectedly, Caoimhe didn’t respond at all. Her eyes were beginning to close, and Petra held her close. Petra allowed the girl to drift off into a pleasant slumber, all while she felt herself giving into her own exhaustion. The peacefulness of the moment was lulling her, and eyelids were suddenly very heavy. 

“Petra, dear. You should go back to bed. I’ll join you soon, all right?” Dorothea suddenly spoke, forcing Petra’s eyes open.

As much as Petra wished to protest, she knew she couldn’t fight off sleep for much longer. Tomorrow was another busy day of negotiations, and it wouldn’t do her any good to be falling asleep in the middle of boring meetings, even if she wanted to. Besides, her wonderful fiancée and beloved children would always be there for her in the morning. She forced herself to sit up straight and nodded. “That is a good idea.”

Petra stood and carried Caoimhe over to the cradles. She gingerly set her tired daughter back down underneath the blankets and adjusted the stuffed animals so that they sat next to her. The stuffed eagle and squid watched proudly over the tiny child as she nodded off into sleep. Petra smiled brightly at the sight of her daughter amongst the toys and blankets she had worked tirelessly to create. All of those late nights spent studying confusing sewing books had paid off. She stepped away from her child and headed back towards her bed, which was looking very inviting indeed. 

She climbed back underneath the sheets and did her best to get comfortable underneath them without the presence of her sweet Dorothea. It would not be long before she joined her, and when she did, she would throw her arms around her and hold her tight.

“ _ Goodnight, Caoimhe. Goodnight, Eithne. Goodnight, my sweet Dorothea. I love you with all my heart. I will see you in the morning. _ ”

With those last words, Petra allowed herself to doze off into peaceful dreams of a bright future for her cherished family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so if i dont give a realistic portrayal of a month old baby i am sorry. the truth is, i hate real babies and don't particularly like researching the subject too much. personally the idea of having a child is scary to me. im honestly more concerned about giving people their doropetra family fluff! 
> 
> also, it turns out its really hard to write when the AC in your house is broken and you are suffering from heat exhaustion. i am so fucking tired.
> 
> so people in the comments section wanted more doropetra and their children, so i offer you this chapter. but id also like to know what else you'd like. i think it would be good to have a chapter with petra's grandfather perhaps, and maybe even some more manuela. anyways, let me know what you think in the comments. also, we're so close to having five hundred kudos! maybe you can leave a kudo if you havent and help me reach my goal? 
> 
> thank you!


	20. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Black Eagles come to visit in preparation for the wedding.

** _Three Moons Later…_ **

Winter in Brigid brought about a slight chill on the brisk breeze, but little more than that. The country was known for its tropical climate even in the most bitter cold moons, and not a single flake of snow had ever fallen upon its lush land. For this, Dorothea was thankful. Though Adrestia hadn’t been nearly as intolerable as Faerghus was in the wintertime, she had nothing but painful memories of frost gnawing at her skin through thin, worn-down clothing while she huddled amongst scraps of discarded newspaper in the alleyways. She would gladly avoid ever seeing snowfall ever again if she could help it.

Dorothea had never thought she would have a winter wedding. For years, she had dreamt about marrying in the Adrestian summer, when the flowers were in full bloom and the sun gleamed at its brightest down upon the harbors of Enbarr. But winter in Brigid was similar in temperature to some of Adrestia’s hottest summer days, and thus, far more pleasant than her child self had imagined a winter wedding to be. 

It was also the perfect time to invite guests, for many Adrestians sought respite from the cold.

Upon the horizon, a ship bearing a deep crimson flag and the golden mark of the double-headed eagle approached, waving proudly in the ocean’s breeze. From the docks, Dorothea grinned. It had been far too long since she had seen her fellow eagles, barring her Petra.

Not everyone was to arrive at once, for the wedding was still two weeks away. It had proven difficult to get in contact with all of the Black Eagle Strike Force. A few of the former soldiers had left to wander Fódlan in search of a new destiny after they had claimed victory over Those Who Slither in the Dark, and thus were far from easy to track down. Plenty of them were simply too busy to make the trip to Brigid, but at least all original members of the Black Eagles had accepted the invitation. Each of them planned to arrive at different intervals, some in pairs. Today, Edelgard von Hresvelg herself was to arrive, alongside her fiancée Byleth and her loyal retainer Hubert. 

“I hope they came prepared for the weather,” sighed Dorothea as she waved air towards her sweat-stained face.

Petra shrugged. “The professor has always been wearing many layers, even in the summer. She was never minding,” she pointed out.

That was true, but then again, many in the Imperial army seemed to favor certain attire regardless of weather. The people of the Empire certainly loved to show off their flashy clothing and seemed to have a preference for heavy jackets.

Together, the queen and her wife-to-be waited on the dock, their hands intertwined as they sat upon an old bench stained by seawater. Dorothea’s heart thrummed in anticipation. She could hardly believe that her wedding was so, so very close.

When the ship docked, Dorothea jumped to her feet. She immediately noticed the flash of a red coat exiting the ship.

“Edie!”

The emperor looked up, her face stoic at first, but then growing into a wide smile. In the past two years, she had physically changed little. She was still short-statured but with a powerful presence and regal look. She boasted her familiar red jacket and cape alongside her horned crown, which sat proudly upon her forehead. However, she had discarded her hair buns in favor of allowing her stark white hair to cascade down her back, well-combed and glimmering against the Brigid sun. There was something to her sky blue eyes that seemed less severe than they had been when she was commanding an army and still haunted by the ghosts of her macabre childhood. She looked as though free of her chains, and the smile she sported was finally genuine. 

“Dorothea, Petra,” she addressed both the women, “I am very pleased to see you two again. It has been two very long years indeed.” 

“Edelgard! I am happy to be seeing you!” greeted a very excited Petra. “It gives me great joy to finally show you my homeland properly.”

“Oh Edie, it’s been too long! Come here!”

Without hesitation, Dorothea flung her arms around Edelgard’s neck and pulled the tiny emperor into a tight hug. The tips of her crown pricked the exposed skin of her shoulder, but she hardly cared.

The enthusiastic greeting did not surprise Edelgard in the slightest. She gladly patted Dorothea’s back in return, happy to once again be in the presence of her friend.

“I missed you too, Dorothea,” sighed Edelgard in content.

Before the embrace could be broken, a second figure emerged from the ship, this one significantly taller. Hubert von Vestra arrived dressed in all black, with his familiar gothic jacket hanging from his shoulders and his long cape trailing behind. His yellow, cat-like eyes gleamed as he spotted his emperor and Dorothea, and then Petra. It was likely just her imagination, but he seemed taller than when they had last met. Within both hands he carried heavy luggage, no doubt his own in one and Edelgard’s in the other. “I have heard many tales of Brigid’s climate, but it is quite humid indeed,” he remarked, “I should think it will take me some time to get used to.”

Dorothea pulled away from Edelgard and took a step back. “Good to see you too, Hubie! I’d give you a hug, but you don’t exactly have the hands for that right now,” she laughed. 

“Indeed,” Hubert agreed, “nevertheless, it is good to see you two again. I see you have been well.”

Petra nodded enthusiastically. “The last few moons have been the happiest of my life!” she gushed, “but now, I am even happier. Thank you for agreeing to come to our wedding.”

“But of course, how could I ever allow myself to miss it?” Edelgard replied, “I made sure that all of our Eagles got the news. We’re all very happy for the both of you, even the ones who weren’t able to make it.”

“Aww, thanks, Edie.”

Petra looked over Hubert’s shoulder, a perplexed expression upon her face. “Where is the professor?” she asked.

“She’s helping Lysithea with her luggage,” Edelgard informed her, “it shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Wait… Lysithea’s here?” Dorothea hadn’t heard anything about Lysithea coming as well.

“Yes, indeed,” Hubert confirmed. “Although it was our intention for just the three of us to arrive today, we ended up picking up some unexpected guests…”

Speaking of unexpected guests, almost as if on cue, Ferdinand von Aegir stepped out from the ship with a brilliant grin befitting of a noble. His long locks of orange hair that he had still failed to cut caught upon the breeze and waved through the air as though they were a bird’s feathers. “At long last, Brigid!” he declared loudly. He momentarily placed his hefty suitcase upon the dock so that he could gather up his wavy hair and tuck it behind his ear. “I must say, that was quite the journey! It has been too long since I have sailed upon the sea… and too long since I have been to Brigid!”

“Wait, Ferdie too? Didn’t you say you were coming next week?” Dorothea asked, thoroughly puzzled. 

“Well, yes, that was the initial plan, but I had an unexpected change of schedule,” Ferdinand answered vaguely. “Either way, I am beyond thrilled to see the both of you again! It seems Brigid has been treating you well, Dorothea.”

“Of course it has! Brigid is lovely, and I have the absolute best woman to share it with,” Dorothea agreed, making a point to grasp Petra’s hand and lean into her side.

To this, Petra giggled. “Yes, I am very happy to be sharing my homeland with Dorothea, and with all of you.”

“Speaking of which… Where is Manuela?” Ferdinand inquired as he scanned the dock for the older songstress. “I had thought she would be here to welcome us. When she left for Brigid, I had not expected it to be quite so permanent.”

“Manuela’s looking after the girls right now,” Dorothea informed him. Manuela had grown quite attached to the two baby girls, and Dorothea would often find her cradling them and singing to them softly. It was strange to think that years ago, she had been complaining to Dorothea about how much she despised infants and young children. “She’ll be really happy to see all of you! I also wasn’t expecting her to stay for so long, but maybe she’ll choose to take the boat back to the Empire with the rest of you.”

Edelgard seemed skeptical of that claim. “I’m not so sure of that. She seems very happy, at least from how you’ve described her in your letters,” she pointed out. “Either way, I’ll be looking forward to catching up with her. I’m sure she will have lots to say about Brigid, and about your children.”

“Well—”

Dorothea did not get to finish her sentence, for she was immediately interrupted by the sound of heavy boots echoing against the wooden dock. Byleth approached the group, carrying with her two heavy suitcases, and at her side was none other than Lysithea. She too had not changed her appearance much, though her hair had grown out towards the middle of her back. Her attire was similar but more suited for the climate. She had discarded her heavy jacket and lace stockings, and she had chosen a top that cut off higher and revealed much more of her muscular midriff, a sight that Dorothea was certain Edelgard had been drooling over. Lysithea, on the other hand, had chosen not to make any changes in her outfit, though she had rolled up her sleeves in preparation for the weather.

“Good afternoon,” Byleth greeted the group. Though it was hard to decipher her ever-present poker face, Dorothea could see the hints of a smile curving her lips.

“Professor! It’s good to see you! Oh, I probably shouldn’t call you that anymore, should I?” Dorothea tapped her free hand to her chin. “What would be a good nickname for you…Bylie? Hm, I’m not sure if that fits…”

Byleth shrugged. “Just Byleth is fine, it’s what the others have been calling me.”

“Well, it gives me great joy that you were able to be coming to our wedding, Byleth!” Petra enthused. Her gaze then shifted to Lysithea, who was moving to join Edelgard’s side. “I am also being thankful that you decided to come as well, Lysithea! You are looking well and strong.”

Lysithea nodded. “Edelgard insisted that I come,” she informed them, “and I didn’t get to go to Brigid last time. I… also wanted to see you two again…” She looked down at her feet to hide her embarrassment at such a remark.

Lysithea had been the first student to join the Black Eagles from another class, just before they had confronted the Death Knight underneath Garreg Mach. She had claimed that it was because she was sick of all Claude’s jokes at her expense and that she thought she could learn valuable magic underneath Byleth, but really, everyone knew that it was because she admired Edelgard. As it turned out, they had both been subjected to the same torture at the hands of Those Who Slither in the Dark, and they formed a deep and valuable bond from their shared trauma. The crests that had been forcibly granted to Lysithea had shortened her lifespan considerably, and there had been times the Black Eagles had thought she would not live past the war. However, the woman that stood before them looked happy and healthy, no doubt thanks to the research she had been conducting alongside Edelgard and Linhardt, which had caused her to remain in the Empire rather than return to the former Alliance territory.

“Well then! If that’s everyone, shall we head to the castle? It’s not too far from here,” Dorothea asked, “or did you bring any other unexpected guests that I should know about?”

Edelgard shook her head. “No. Linhardt, Caspar, and Bernadetta will all be arriving as scheduled next week. There are a few others that were still considering joining them, but I have not heard any news. The war has left much work to be done in the former Kingdom and Alliance territories, and those of the Black Eagle Strike Force who were nobility have focused much of their efforts on governing their land.” 

That much was understandable. Not everyone could make the trip to Brigid, and Dorothea was surprised that Edelgard had even found time to visit not only for their wedding, but for two whole weeks beforehand. 

“Good! Then let’s go, shall we?”

“Let’s.”

* * *

Petra led the group up the long, uphill path to the Macneary’s royal castle. By the time they had reached the peak, Ferdinand and Lysithea looked as though thoroughly winded by the hike, while the others seemed unperturbed by the journey. The guards greeted the queen and her consort with a bow and the others with a salute before pulling the doors wide open for the group. When they stepped within the entrance hall, all five of the visiting eagles marveled at the interior. 

The Brigid castle’s entrance hall was kept pristine, with not even a smudge of dirt upon the woven carpet that led to the stairway. Tokens of hunts and traditional art lined the walls from floor to ceiling. It was, in many ways, a celebration of all Brigid had to offer, a prideful display of their culture. 

“Wow…” Lysithea muttered underneath her breath, taken in by the sight.

“I must say, I am impressed by your castle, Petra! You must tell me all about the art of Brigid later, I would love to hear about each piece in detail,” Ferdinand commented as he gazed at a wide painting of the ocean’s shore at sunset, composed of vibrant warm colors that were near exact to the actual scene it was based off of. 

Edelgard nodded in agreement. “Indeed. The architecture of your castle is far different from what we have in the Empire,” she observed.

“I’m looking forward to trying your cuisine,” Byleth admitted, “I heard there’s many different kinds of fish here in Brigid. I can’t wait to try.”

“Yes! We must be going on a fishing trip soon, I would love to be showing you,” agreed Petra enthusiastically. 

“Oh, you ladies and your fishing,” laughed Dorothea. She never understood her wife’s hobby, a sentiment that she shared with Edelgard, judging by the expression upon her face. “There’ll be plenty of time for that! And I’m sure you’d all like to visit the beach as well, except for maybe Hubie.”

“You misjudge me. I am here to protect and serve Her Majesty, but perhaps it would do some good to relax, if only for a moment…” he corrected. Dorothea did not fail to notice how his eyes trailed off to steal a glance at Ferdinand before quickly averting his gaze. Perhaps there was something to those rumors after all. She’d be sure to pester both Hubert and Ferdinand about it for details later.

From down the hall, the faint sound of a small cry began to echo out. Petra’s head darted in the direction of her children’s bedroom. “Ah! Please excuse me, we must be tending to our children now. I am thinking Manuela needs some assistance, or a break. The servants will be showing you to your rooms.”

“That is perfectly fine,” Edelgard reassured her. “I am certain the children keep you two busy most of the day. They can be a handful.” There was a wistful glimmer in the emperor’s eye, and Dorothea wondered if she was recalling her days as a child amongst her numerous siblings. 

“I’ll be sure to introduce you to them later. Maybe it’ll spark a bit of inspiration for the two of you, hm?” teased Dorothea, giving Edelgard and Byleth a knowing look. “Speaking of which, I had the servants prepare a single room for both of you, I hope that’s alright.”

“More than alright,” Byleth stated, and wrapped an arm around Edelgard’s shoulder. 

The simple gesture was enough to make Edelgard’s face turn a light pink, and it was immediately apparent that the two were often not as outwardly affectionate in front of so many prying eyes. 

“A...Anyways, thank you, Dorothea, don’t let us keep you from your children any longer,” Edelgard hurriedly spoke. 

“You’re welcome, Edie,” Dorothea replied with a wink, “I’ll see all of you soon, all right? And I’ll make sure Manuela knows you’re here.”

“Yes! I hope you will find everything well,” Petra added on, “farewell for now!” 

With that, the two hustled down the hallway towards the growing cries of their children. 

* * *

“There there, it’s all right now, baby girl,” cooed Dorothea as she hugged Eithne to her chest, “Mommy’s got you now.”

The rocking chair slowly creaked as it swayed back and forth, putting the upset little girl at ease. Eithne sniffled as she buried her face into her mother’s chest, tiny hands grasping at red fabric. 

“I am thinking they were just missing us,” Petra speculated as she cradled Caoimhe in her arms as the baby fussed. “Manuela is a good aunt, but it is hard to be caring for two babies at once.”

“It’s a bit difficult having twins, isn’t it? But I wouldn’t dare wish otherwise. Our little girls are the most precious thing in the universe… and you too, of course, my sweetest.”

Petra giggled. “Yes, indeed.” She glanced at the bundle in her arms and smiled brightly at her younger daughter. “I am hoping that the others will be finding everything well. Except—ah!”

Dorothea glanced up at her lover in concern. “What is it, dear?” she asked.

“I am realizing now that I have only prepared two rooms!” she exclaimed. “I was not expecting Ferdinand or Lysithea to come!”

“Oh, oh my… now that  _ is _ an amusing problem, now isn’t it?” Dorothea mused with a sly smile. 

“It would be easy to be preparing a third room, but… the other guest rooms are in need of being cleared out completely…” Petra’s face fell as she contemplated her options. 

“Oh darling, I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Three rooms is fine,” Dorothea assured her. “Hubie and Ferdie can share, and Lysithea can have her own room. I’m sure they won’t mind…”

“Hubert and Ferdinand—? Ah, I have understanding. You are thinking what Manuela had said was true. Maybe that is why Ferdinand chose to come with Hubert and Edelgard instead of waiting,” she speculated. 

“I’m  _ sure _ that’s the reason why.” The gossip was just  _ far _ too juicy, and Dorothea could not help but grin mischievously. “They were awfully close at the end of the war, you know? I saw them sharing coffee and tea together one day…”

“You had told me of that!” remembered Petra. “I suppose we should be asking.”

“Yes, I’ll be  _ sure _ I get all the details…”

The two women laughed in unison. Having the other eagles around without any war to fret over felt so nostalgic, almost like they were back at the academy. Back then, they had been simple classmates, but over the years, they had grown into  _ so  _ much more. The Black Eagles wasn’t just a class at school anymore, nor were they a group of soldiers—no, they had become  _ family _ , and Dorothea couldn’t wait until the rest joined them. There was plenty of catching up to do indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, and truth be told, I'm a bit nervous about posting after such a long time. I also haven't written anyone that wasn't Dorothea and Petra in quite some time, and I hope everyone was still in character. Next chapter, there will be plenty of catching up to do for the Eagles!
> 
> I'm not certain when I'll update next. I was selected to be part of the [Doropetra zine](https://twitter.com/DoropetraZine) as a writer! I'll be focusing the next few days on completing my piece for that project, and then, who knows? 
> 
> Now that the other eagles are here, what would you like to see from this fanfic? Who would you like to see talk? I know for certain that I'll have Linhardt, Bernie, and Caspar come as well, but are there any other characters you would like to see show up? I figured Lysithea was a given since she's an honorary beagle in the eyes of many, but I'm not certain about anyone else. Tell me in the comments below! And thank you for reading.


End file.
